


Save Me A Memory

by WanderingAfar



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Angst, Captivity, Gen, Magic-Users
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-11-18 16:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 42,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11294292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WanderingAfar/pseuds/WanderingAfar
Summary: It is the second Great Purge and those with magic are again being hunted. Nine years ago, Merlin was captured and imprisoned deep within Camelot’s government facility, along with the other sorcerers and druids. Kept in an altered state, Merlin's only sanctuary is the one he has created in his own mind.Arthur wakes to find a very different Camelot surrounded by a wasteland. His search for Merlin begins.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I signed up for Merlin Reverse Big Bang without telling anyone, as I was fearful of the results of what would be my first posted fanfic. Luckily for me, I did end up telling two good friends a few days into the fest, as they have become, and remain, my best cheerleaders. Thank you to MyWhisperingMind for providing me with the perfect title as I am crap at coming up with those. And, thank you to RocknVaughn for taking the time to help a newbie get her work posted. And to both of you for putting up with my writing angst, checking for errors, and reminding me to take breaks and just breathe. 
> 
> The mods have been wonderful and have patiently answered all my questions and worked with me on deadlines. I know something like this takes a lot of time and energy, and it doesn’t go unappreciated. This has been an incredible experience that wouldn’t have happened if not for them. 
> 
> A special thank you to my beta L, from whom I've learned so much. I can’t help but feel that there might have been a bit of serendipity in play when Amphigoury referred me to you. I am honored to have you as my beta reader.
> 
> Finally, a massive thank you to Amphigoury, for her amazing artwork. Merlin in a tube immediately drew me in and sparked my creativity, allowing me to play in a fantastic new world. 
> 
> Although my story is finished, I feel that parts of it still need more attention, so for now I'm posting the first three chapters. The rest of the nine chapters, plus an epilogue, will be posted in the coming weeks.
> 
> Artist Notes: It's a great weight off my shoulders to finally have this piece posted for the Merlin Reverse Big Bang. Big thank yous to the small army involved.

 

 _Thou shalt be king of the whole of Britain!  For yon star doth betoken thee, and the fiery dragon that is under the star!_  — Geoffrey of Monmouth

 

Gaius hobbled through a room of clear cylindrical tanks resting on heavy grey bases. He methodically checked the valves of the pipes that extended down from the life-supporting machinery attached to the ceiling. Full and pronounced at the top, the rigid pipes decreased in width as they worked their way through the walls of the tanks, becoming flexible tentacles implanted in imprisoned human bodies. Ensuring the connections were stable, he occasionally stopped to gently wipe a smudge from the glass of one of the receptacles. His overworked and aged shoulder muscles tugged in rebellion as he reached up to inspect a pipe. He could have asked one of the laboratory technicians to help, but he preferred to work alone, away from the contemptuous looks of the others. Gnarled fingers examined the smooth material of the conduit until he was confident there were no cracks. Focused on his work, he was also mindful of the man within the tank.

The druid immersed in the clear fluid had arrived two weeks earlier. Gaius sighed as he tapped the display secured to the side of the tank, delivering the Doloramine through one of the conduits. As the drug flowed through the man's system, he twitched in pain, agitating the carbonation of bubbles floating to the surface of the tank. Gaius rubbed at the burn in his shoulder in frustration. How long would it be before this one traded memories for bliss so that the pain-inducing drugs would no longer be necessary?  

“John, please don't fight. It is better if you don’t. I promise.”

The workers at Camelot’s biggest government facility didn’t hide their distaste for the broken down old man who chattered endlessly to the mindless Biogen. There were rumors that the only reason he worked in the Biogen labs was because of his ties to the Pendragon family.  His coworkers dismissed him as a crazy old man who should have been reassigned to retirement duties long ago.

Truthfully, the only thing that kept Gaius sane was giving words of comfort to his friends--the imprisoned druids and sorcerers whose bodies hung limply in the somnolent fluid. Although their heads were bowed and their features hidden by oxygen masks, Gaius didn’t need to see their faces to remember their eyes and their smiles. As he went about his work each day, he never failed to acknowledge everyone by name and gently explain procedures whenever he adjusted the drugs, warning them when to expect pain and advising them on ways to avoid discomfort. He treated them as his patients and remembered them as the good people who had once lived in the ever-diminishing woodlands outside of Camelot. He spoke to them until brain death when he would shut off the drug-delivering conduits.

John's body relaxed as the Doloramine was replaced with the drug that provided pleasure. Gaius sighed in relief. The machines had taken more of the man’s mind, but he was also out of pain. Gaius had been friends with John’s family for many years. His mother, Sarah, who had a quick wit and fierce loyalty to her family, had been captured two years ago. John's seven-year-old daughter, Beatrice, born just before Gaius came to the facility, was in another area where the little ones were held in smaller tanks. In her anguish, Beatrice’s mother had come to the city to beg for the return of her family. Now, she floated lifelessly just four tanks over from her husband. Gaius scanned the forest of tanks around him and thought about the other rooms just like this one. Another entire family gone. The resistance is losing. He could not help them and he could not heal them.

Once a physician, Gaius was now a warden and complicit in destroying minds. Chancellor Pendragon's obsession for technological advances was the driving force behind the reassignment of all healers in Camelot. His goal? An energy-efficient domed city, made up of clear graphene buildings, sensor networks, and self-repairing concrete. The price of this megalopolis that would bring all other countries to their knees in wonder, were the hopes and dreams of Camelot's citizens.

Gaius reflected on that day when he had stood in Uther Pendragon’s office, with its one hundred and eighty degree view of the city. A screen had flickered with the news of Camelot a few feet from a desk devoid of any personal items, as Gaius entreated, “Uther, better technology isn’t always the answer. It can’t treat all the ills of man…can’t nourish their minds and souls.”

Camelot’s leader had held firm, “That is nonsense. Your talents and time are much better spent in the labs and Biogen rooms caring for those who serve the city.” Uther’s calm, cold voice continued. “Your job is to process their bodies for purity so they will be of use to all of us.”  

“Chancellor, I…”

"That is enough, Gaius. The decision has been made. The guard is being sent to your home to move some of your personal property to housing more fitting for a member of the government. You will begin your job tomorrow.”

It didn’t go unnoticed that he would not be allowed to keep all of his belongings. Gaius knew he should have been grateful. The fact that Uther had overlooked Gaius’s minimal magical abilities and allowed him to treat patients as long as he had could probably be attributed to Uther’s love for his own beloved parents. Gaius had been their dear friend. He had seen their shy, awkward son grow into a loving husband who had served as a fair and just mediator in the government until it was time to take his father's place as Albion's leader.  

But then, Gaius had watched in horror as the caring man had turned bitter and angry after his wife and son died during childbirth under the care of a druid woman with magic. In that one moment in time, the future of Albion and the world had pivoted down a dark path. Within months, Uther had decreed magic illegal and any druids or sorcerers found within Albion and especially within its capital, Camelot, were executed. Gaius had rightly suspected that anything discovered in his home that hinted of sorcery or the old religion would be destroyed, or worse, confiscated.

“What of my home?"

Uther didn’t look away from the city news scrolling across the screen, as he delivered his edict. “That pitiful shack of yours will be demolished. It is an eyesore.”

Gaius's home had been a humble cottage situated on the edge of Camelot, where friends and strangers alike had visited him to benefit from his knowledge and skills of the old ways. He treated the sick and injured with herbs, medicine, and kind advice. There were also the nights when five crisp knocks on his door would signal the arrival of one or more of the resistance. These were a group of druids and sorcerers who fought against Uther's anti-magic laws, and often relied on Gaius for news of the city and to take care of their injured and sick when they dared enter Camelot. He was sure that Uther suspected, but overlooked, his associations...At least for awhile. In fact, it wasn’t long after three resistance members were captured near his home that he had been summoned to Uther's office. He had feared he would be imprisoned, or even put to death, but had been relieved at reassignment.

On his first day at work, Gaius had been led through the corridors of the sterile government facility by a laboratory technician, as impersonal and cold as the building itself. Stopping in front of a steel door, the technician had gestured for Gaius to hold his hand up to a scanner. The light turned from red to green and the door unlocked with a click. Gaius rubbed the sensitive spot on the heel of his hand where the security chip had been embedded earlier that day, as the door opened to a stairwell that took them deeper into the facility. At the bottom of the stairs, he had felt a chill go through him as they walked towards the dark haired man at the end of a hall. Bile rose in his throat as Minister Aredian regarded him with a sneer. “I guess if the Chancellor deems you trustworthy enough to work with the Biogen, then you must be.”

Aredian had surely known of Gaius’s connections to many in the resistance. After all, the minister had lived amongst them himself until his ruthless betrayal. That duplicity had gained him a key role in the government and the main reason for Gaius to fear him.  

Aredian had nodded to the laboratory technician who left without a word. They turned and entered the first door with a sign that read "Processing." Aredian grabbed a lab coat from a hook on the wall and tossed it carelessly at Gaius, forcing the old man to pick it up off the floor.  

“This will be one of the rooms to which you have access,” Aredian said, making clear that Gaius would not be privy to many of the building’s secrets.  

Gaius donned the coat and adjusted it uncomfortably as they waited in silence until the technician returned with a gurney.  

Aredian’s smile was cold and calculating, “Ah, here we are, a Biogen for you to practice on…number…” He glanced at the card on the gurney, “465.”  

Aredian looked up to see the old man go pale, “Do you know her, Gaius?”  

Stunned to see the familiar features of a close friend’s seventeen-year-old daughter, unconscious and vulnerable, without even a sheet to cover her naked body, he shook his head no.

Aredian snorted, “Of course you don’t. Well, then that’s good as it can’t be comfortable to watch a friend go through the initial tubing process.”

Gaius had turned away as Aredian addressed the technician, “Has it been stripped of its identity?”

The technician nodded at the bloody raw area of the girl’s arm where a large chunk of skin had been gouged out. Stunned, Gaius prayed that the girl had been asleep when the druid mark had been removed.

Then came the jarring words. “Let us begin.”  

Aredian was right. It had been shocking, and also heartbreaking. Gaius’s hands had shaken as he followed Aredian’s directions on how to prepare the girl for the tank. He had tried to focus as Aredian explained that the girl’s powers would someday help the city.

“It is much better than an execution. Don’t you think?”  

Gaius had shuddered and wondered if that were true.  

“Instead, the Biogen give their lives to help others.” Aredian said.

No, not give. There was no free will here. Her mind would be emptied so that there was no barrier for the machines that would continually harvest her essence to power Camelot.  

Aredian had clearly savored Gaius’s emotional discomfort. With mounting horror, he had tried to be as gentle as possible during the procedure. Aredian outright laughed when the girl began to wake up, first moaning, then screaming as Gaius inserted a tube into her upper arm. The eyes that met his were filled with terror, agony, and then finally a look of betrayal as she recognized the man who had told her funny stories while setting her broken arm last Spring.   

Aredian jammed a needle into the girl’s hip. “Tch, tch, Gaius, must not tarry. Oh, did I forget to tell you? The drug only lasts a short time. Mustn’t waste the city's resources by using more supplies than necessary. If you can’t work quickly…well then…” and he gestured down at the girl who was again unconscious.

Aredian continued the training with a satisfied smirk. Furious that Aredian had hurt this innocent girl to torment him, his thoughts became a mantra of, I will never let this happen again. I will never let this happen again.  

“Are you listening old man?”  

Startled back to awareness by Aredian's harsh voice, Gaius nodded weakly.

“Alright, then. We'll let the technician finish up here. Follow me.”

Gaius had then been led into a room filled with tanks holding druids and sorcerers. It had been nearly impossible to follow Aredian's words while surrounded by the thirty people imprisoned in altered states in somnolent fluid.  

Ignoring Gaius's shock, Aredian moved casually through the room, "This is where the purification takes place. Thoughts of resistance can block the flow of energy. We must ensure that there is nothing left of their minds to cause any glitches when their power is needed. The machines do that job. However, the process is much smoother if thoughts are released willingly. We use drugs to encourage them.”

Aredian stepped over to a set of double doors and opened them up to reveal shelves filled with large blue and clear bottles. "No doubt you have administered Doloramine for nerve damage.” He did not wait for Gaius's reply, "Though I expect not the higher doses that will cause pain. When they…."

“Higher doses? You torture these people?” Gaius interrupted.

“Not torture. Encourage, Gaius...encourage. They can stop the pain at any time by releasing memories. When they do, the machine delivers the Libentine.”

“Libentine? That is a dangerous illegal drug."

"Hmmm, yes, I believe you might be correct. However, the government has made it legal for this purpose.” Aredian closed the doors without looking at Gaius.  

“We start with the Doloramine. The dose is increased until the Biogen gives up its memories. At that point, the counteragent is released. That is the Libentine creating euphoria. When all memories are gone, the Biogen is pure and we can use the body for its true purpose.”

“True purpose?” Gaius was numb and Uther's decision to reassign him rather than put him in prison finally made sense. The Chancellor’s self-perceived mercy was nothing but a sadistic punishment.

“Oh Gaius, don’t look so shocked. We are not really hurting them. We are making them more powerful. Useless thoughts take up energy, so we remove them. It is their decision to feel pain or pleasure. And the pleasure is so much nicer than anything they have felt before in their sad little lives. We are offering them their own heaven, so to speak.” Aredian’s oily voice was full of insincerity, “We give them nirvana and one day they will contribute their power to our beautiful city. A reasonable trade, don't you think?"

Gaius refused to acknowledge the question by asking his own, “Where do the memories go?”

Aredian’s face darkened for a moment. “They don’t go anywhere, they just…dissolve.”

“But how do you…”

“Enough! Let us continue.”

Gaius had no doubt that there was some sort of magic at play here. No technology could do this. He was beginning to understand why Uther would want Aredian working for him. What despicable bargain had they made?

With despair, he had followed Aredian as he directed Gaius's attention to the status on the display of one of the tanks. “The goal…is purity and the process is usually smooth enough. However, some must be convinced, and the pain reminds them.” He pointed to two switches. “Red for pain, blue for bliss. It isn’t long before they find they crave the bliss and we no longer need the Doloramine…better for them.”  

Aredian walked over to a tank where a man was jerking in pain in the clear fluid, "However, there are those…” he frowned, rubbing at his forehead, “...who don’t know what is good for them and resist. Usually that only goes on for so long, but then again…”

“What is happening to him?”

“He is holding on to his memories. As you can see, the pain is now stimulating his body to spasm. We…well actually you, will need to make sure that they don’t hurt themselves. You will be in charge of monitoring their vital signs. See there? Feel better? Still a physician.”  

Aredian turned to Gaius and for the first time deigned to look directly at him. “The most important thing to remember is that I must be present when they first arrive and in the final stages of memory release. You will alert me as soon as they reach ninety-five percent purity so that I can oversee the final phase. It is vital that you do not forget to alert me."

Aredian's intense glare exacted a quick response from Gaius, "Yes, Sir."

Now, after seven years, Gaius's job was but a dull routine and Aredian mostly left him alone, as did the technicians with the exception of their occasional taunts. Other than orders from Aredian and monthly meetings with Uther, he was left to work on the mindless. Gaius hoped that somewhere deep inside these souls they knew there was someone who still cared for them and saw them for the men, women, and children they had been before they were stolen for their powers.

In many ways, these beautiful people with their gentle religion that honored nature and the turn of the seasons were his kin. Gaius had sat with them, in warm camaraderie, around fires deep within the forest, and had shared in their rituals and celebrations. He had listened to their poems, songs and stories; watched them dance, sing, and play musical instruments that had been fashioned by their own hands. His heart broke knowing their precious inherent talents would be used to power the very society they fought against.

Gaius shook himself out of the past and moved on to the next tank. He pressed his forehead against the smooth surface and silently mouthed a prayer for Freya, the woman with the shy smile who once made bread for him in payment for tending to the injuries and illnesses of her people. It would not be long now. Her extreme loyalty to the resistance had gotten her captured several months ago while protecting three children who were taken three days later. Gaius’s stomach clenched as he made a note in his medical device, 93% pure. It would soon be time to alert Aredian.

There was one more room to visit before his mid-day meal. He took a last glance at the tanks and those within them, sighed and walked out of the room. The light lowered to a soft yellow glow as the door shut behind him.

Gaius, slowly made his way down to the last room. He placed his hand on the scanner and typed in the code—a code that was not needed for the other rooms. As the lights came up, he entered and was greeted by the soft whirring sound of a single machine.

Gaius relaxed into the quiet of the smaller room and approached its only tank.

“Good morning, Merlin.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

 

Merlin looked up at the Draco constellation in the Northern sky.  The stars winked furtively at him, in acknowledgement of their shared secret. It was a comfort to him that his knowledge, and that of the druids and sorcerers, was well-protected far away from Albion. He couldn’t recall why he had chosen the dragon for this task. But, it somehow seemed fitting that Draco defended his memories and those of the other prisoners.

The sky also served as Merlin’s timepiece. Constellations moving from East to West had counted out the long years, while the North Star and Big Dipper ticked off the hours as Merlin fought against his captors' attacks on his mind. 

The invasions came in the form of pulsating waves of pain and bliss. Pain only gave way to pleasure once he’d chosen a memory, wrapped it in grief, and sent it up to the dragon’s hoard in the sky.  He despised the euphoria as much as the torture. Its caress reminded him of all he had lost...all he had failed to protect. But there had been a single battle won. 

When Merlin had first arrived at the government facility, he had connected with the minds of the druids and sorcerers who had been captured before him. That is when he had learned their minds were being drained and that Aredian was stealing their memories. Merlin may not have had the power to stop the others from releasing their knowledge, but once discharged, his connection to them allowed him to redirect that knowledge up to the Draco Constellation so that it was not lost forever. Perhaps it had something to do with the dragon, but the only time Merlin could use his power outside himself was when he pushed those memories up to the stars. Otherwise, his magic was as much a prisoner as he was.

During his nine years of imprisonment, Merlin’s mind had grown thick with magic. Restless at its containment, it longed to be free, to extend its strands out into the world, to breathe, stretch, and create. So, he had allowed it to exercise within its confines and create a world within. One with a deep dark forest enveloping a clearing of soft grass peppered with purple flowers, and a stream that waltzed in harmony to the occasional breeze. In that world there was his cave, where his own memories lived until Merlin was forced to send them to their protector in the sky. Yet, there were the memories of one that he would not release. Even as Arthur’s Wain, the great chariot in the sky, beckoned for its king to take his place, Merlin held fast.

The first time Arthur had appeared to him was during one of the countless struggles against the drugs. Merlin had made his way to the cave, as the pain had pushed him to choose. But that time he had rebelled against  Aredian’s machines. Gripping the cold hard rock at the cave’s mouth, he had no longer cared. He had dared the pain to take his life. As the torture continued, he began to scream. 

The warm pressure of a hand on his shoulder had surprised and silenced him. He had turned to find Camelot’s King standing before him, and wondered if insanity had beaten death to the finish line. The red and gold of Arthur's burial dress had looking clean and new, chain mail gleaming as it had after a good burnishing by Merlin, and Excalibur was sheathed proudly at his side. Arthur had spoken. “Merlin, you must choose.”  

“Who are you?” Merlin had gasped. He glared at the phantom, wanting to strike out at whomever would use Arthur’s likeness against him. 

“Merlin, you know me.”

The concern in Arthur's blue eyes had calmed Merlin. The pain seemed to lessen and he had felt a sense of coming home. He did know this man. A memory somehow come alive. Gods, had loneliness and desperation driven his magic to manifest his king? But, it no longer mattered whether it was a drug-induced hallucination or his own imagination. He couldn’t go into the cave again. Looking at his friend, he had longed to fall at Arthur’s feet and succumb to a deep sleep. Still in shock at the clarity of Arthur’s strong presence, Merlin had stuttered, “No, no more. I can’t go on.” 

Motionless except for the slight breeze pushing at his blond hair, Arthur’s voice had penetrated Merlin’s soul, “Don’t give up. You must never give up.”

Madness or longing, it hadn’t mattered. Merlin gave into the fantasy. “Choose for me.” 

Arthur looked towards the cave and then back at his servant and shook his head.

Merlin sobbed, “Please, Arthur. Choose for me.” 

“You do know I am a memory? It isn’t really me choosing.” 

Merlin didn’t care, “Arthur, please.”  

Arthur sighed and moved into the cave, with Merlin close behind. They made their way along the tunnels that Merlin’s magic had fashioned to resemble the Crystal Cave. But it was memories, not crystals, that dwelled within the cavern. Dressed as undulating clouds in all shapes, sizes, and colors, they pulsated throughout the room. Soft pastels of happy memories bounced lightly in the air, while the darker thoughts of grey and black moved sluggishly along the floor. These all belonged to Merlin and each time he approached a cloud, emotions would grip his heart. 

The growing pulses of pain had coursed through Merlin’s body as Arthur, brows furrowed, stopped at one memory after another. He then stepped into the shadows. Merlin closed in behind Arthur as he had leaned over and brushed his hand through a grey cloud. “I really don’t think you need this one.” 

Merlin’s argument had died on his lips when he saw the memory of Arthur’s face the day he discovered Morgana'a betrayal. Merlin had been happy to be rid of it. Yet, it still was one of Arthur. A swell of sadness had overwhelmed him. He was losing Arthur one memory at a time. Holding the cloud, he had left the cave and re-lived that day one last time. Then with a soft swoosh his magic had released it and within minutes the memory was in the stars. “Take care of it dragon,” he whispered. Sitting on a rock near the cave, Merlin had then waited for what always came next. But, this time there had been the comforting presence of a friend. His gaze had locked onto Arthur’s until the euphoria took over and he knew nothing for a while.

Since that time, Arthur was always nearby. Merlin sensed there should be others by the king’s side. But, the knights of Camelot were now jousting and carousing from Ursa Minor to the Big Dipper. It was left to Merlin and Arthur to share the memories that remained. Sometimes Arthur stood quietly behind Merlin, guarding against phantoms from the forest. Other times, Arthur paced to and fro, nervous and on high alert. 

“There is no way out,” Merlin would mumble. “You know that because you know what I know.” 

“You don’t get to give up, Merlin,” And he would continue to pace. 

But there were lighter moments. Armed with an arsenal of insults and experiences from their times together, Merlin found comfort in their banter and Arthur's teasing.

Now, three years later, Merlin eyed his companion warily as Arthur stood up and moved towards the cave. Merlin’s stomach clenched in dread. He prepared for the fight that was already lost. 

Arthur looked towards the cave. “It’s time, Merlin.” 

“No it can’t be. I haven’t felt the…”

There it was; the slight push of pain. Merlin looked at Arthur. “How could you know?” 

But it was Merlin who knew. He often sensed the oncoming pain through Arthur, who was the messenger of his subconscious.  

Another wave of pain struck, this one more intense than the last. They seemed to come faster these days. Clearly Aredian’s patience was growing thin. Arthur looked concerned. “Please, Merlin, do not wait this time.”

Merlin sighed and allowed Arthur to lead him into the cave. The soft wisps of clouds fluctuated all around them, pulling back at their approach as if fearing the impending banishment. Arthur pointed to a bright one pulsing playfully near a rock by the side of the cave. Merlin shook his head like a stubborn child, “Not that one.” 

“Merlin, you idiot. You really do not need to hold on to some of these ridiculous memories.”

Merlin smiled at the memory of a disgruntled, donkey-eared Arthur. “If I leave it to you to erase all your embarrassing moments, there might not be much of you left.”  

“Oh, is that what you think? I’d point out all of your moronic blunders but I believe they are no longer here.” 

“What moronic blunders?” Merlin grinned.

Arthur cleared his throat.

“Alright then. Fine.” Merlin acquiesced and gently took the wriggling cloud outside and prepared to say goodbye. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Three Years Earlier

Consciousness was slow in coming to Arthur. He had no idea who or even what he was. The first of his senses to return was hearing. A confusing myriad of sounds, rushing together, then gradually characterizing themselves independently. The frenetic scratchings of a small creature continuously started and stopped, while a whistling wind stayed constant. In the distance was the shrieking, trilling and chirping of birdsong, alternating with the strident mating calls of the bush crickets and the screeches of an owl.  

It was the bluster of a Spring storm that coaxed a second sense to awaken, as the fresh aroma of newly cleansed plants and the deep earthy scent of wet soil roused him into awareness with each intake of breath.

A few days later, Arthur opened his eyes to find himself in a towering womb of stone. He gazed upon carvings in the wall until they gradually took on the definition of symbols and animals. High above, light shone through several windows, and most of his day was spent acclimating to the dizzying feeling of clouds passing by and the shadows they created. It was twilight when the awareness of a dark oak door to the outside world ignited his first conscious word. _Camelot._

That one thought confused and exhausted him and there was a return to darkness.

The sun woke him, but it was thirst that brought sharp attention to his body. His fingers pressed into an unyielding bed of stone, followed by the gradual realization that those fingers were attached to hands. He spent hours trying to discern the different ways they moved. It was another day before he mastered his body enough to sit up. Then, amazed by how this new position changed his perception of the room, he methodically took in his environment all over again. This time he discovered particles in the sunlight which invited a whole new visual exploration, until he was distracted by a blue-grey feather that had settle on his leg. Soon he tired and slept for two days.

The next time Arthur opened his eyes, his need for water was much keener. Standing was his next challenge, sparking more sensations. But it was easier now. After several faltering steps, he stopped at a stone bench where he sat down next to a pile of neatly folded clothes that had made no sense to him a day ago. On top, lay a strange sort of parchment with words in an unknown language. As he tentatively picked it up, the writing began to shimmer gold, his fingers tingled where they touched the page and the words took on meaning.

_Arthur, these are the clothes you will need. I am near. Come find me in Camelot…Merlin. P.S. Don’t be alarmed by what you see. You have been asleep for a very, very long time._

From the words on the page to the thoughts in his head, Arthur's mind was filled with language and his real first memory. _Merlin._ His hands shaking, he reread the letter over and over. _Arthur_. His name. His name was Arthur. More memories...of blue eyes filled with tears and arms holding him—his friend, his servant and something else...his...a sorcerer. This was Merlin's magic.

He knew he could trust the directions he held in his hand. There was nothing to do but follow them. Standing up, he removed his heavy garments, exchanging them for the soft light material left for him. He wriggled his fingers, relishing the cool freedom of his now ungloved hands. The shirt slipped easily over his head. But, the odd metal binding for his pants confounded him and he swore--the sound of his own voice startling him--when his fingers got caught in its bite. Where were the buttons?

Finally dressed in perfectly fitted clothes, Arthur folded up his old garb as best he could and laid it gently on the bench. His fingers traced the crest of a gold dragon—perhaps a clue to who he was. He then tucked the note into the pocket of his trousers, took a deep breath, and walked over to the door. With a creak it opened easily, letting in the clean fresh air of early morning. Arthur shielded his eyes from the sun with one hand as his other instinctively reached for something that should have been at his side. What had he forgotten? He couldn’t remember.  

After a few shaky steps, the odd weight of his own body forced Arthur to sit down. His muscles still weak, he rested for hours while looking out at the unfamiliar landscape. The lake surrounding his small island seemed familiar. However, beyond that, where there should have been a forest, a colorless and desolate wasteland, sparsely dotted with trees, spread out as far as he could see. Rock, seemingly flattened level to the ground, formed pathways where odd moving boxes of metal zig-zagged at impossible speeds. Rising up in the middle of this bleak expanse, were giant peaks of silver jutting into the sky. Intrigue and terror welled up inside of him and his instinct was to return to the safety of the tower. But the words on the parchment encouraged him to move on. _Come find me_.

Arthur stood up and stumbled down to the lake to quench an unbearable thirst. His body rejoiced as the water soothed and restored every cell in his body, renewing his strength. Even his need for food had retreated. _This is what alive feels like._

 _Now, to find Merlin_.

A small untethered wooden boat, nudging the shore, caught his attention. It bobbed up and down in invitation. Arthur didn’t hesitate to accept and stepped in. The moment he sat, there was a slight tug and he was gliding through the dark waters towards the other shore. The journey across the lake seemed to take a lifetime as a lifetime of memories began to fill his head: Merlin, the knights, Gwen, his life in Camelot, all returning to him.

Arthur startled, as the boat kissed the land with a gentle bump. Overwhelmed with emotion from the memories of all he had lost, Arthur stepped on to the land and looked back to see a cloudy haze coming up off the island to possess the tower and all around it. A few minutes later, Avalon disappeared into a fathomless fog, leaving behind only the lake.

Nowhere to go but forward, Arthur tentatively tested the feel of the road and began his journey towards the only visible landmark, the towering mountains of steel. He walked for almost a whole day. Wary and initially hiding from the passing traveling boxes that he feared to be some type of magical monsters, he found himself futilely grasping at the bare spot at his hip. But the boxes’ patterns suggested they were some type of carriage and not transparent beasts with people in their bellies. Taking Merlin’s advice he tried not to be alarmed. At some point, fear turned to annoyance as the wheeled-boxes repeatedly shot by, startling him with a blast of noise and a dusting of dirt. After a thousand years of silence, Arthur fully recovered his voice with language so colorful it would have made Gwaine blush.  

After a few miles, his focus on the traffic was displaced more memories of his life playing out in his mind. They came in such a rush that it was near impossible to process. A swelling of emotions often had him gasping for breath. It was while he was bent over, choking in tears and anger at Morgana’s betrayal that he heard the swish of a door. He glanced up to see a surly looking man with an odd yellow cap and clothes to match looking curiously at him from within one of the long metal carts. “You okay? Are you going to Camelot?”

 _Home._  

Heart beating wildly, Arthur self-consciously wiped at his eyes. He knew his voice would betray his grief, so he just nodded. Then he looked toward the great towers of silver ahead and back at the driver. "Is, is that...?"

"Yes, Camelot. Do you have the fare?”

Arthur reached for where his pouch should have been and realized he had no coins with him. He shook his head and turned to continue his walk.

“Hold on lad. I’ve narrowly avoided hitting you six times today and sooner or later my luck is going to run out.”

Arthur nodded to the man and gingerly stepped up into the mouth of the metal monster. He fell back into the closest seat as the transport quickly jumped into motion and accelerated.

After the initial moments of shock, he spent the rest of the ride desperately missing his favorite bay horse. He closed his eyes to relieve the headache brought on by the speed of the outside world flying past, the noisy chatter around him, and the storm of memories that continued to flood his mind.

“Entering Camelot.”

Arthur's eyes snapped open at the voice that seemed to come from above and all around him.

Twisting around to take in everything outside the windows, he cried out, “Gods, this.. _this_. is Camelot?”

Ignoring the scrutinizing stares, he jumped up, grateful to finally be getting off the transport. Arthur thanked the driver for his kindness and stepped out into a foreign world of sights, sounds, and smells that defied understanding.

The city was both terrifying and beautiful. The monstrous size of the crowds paralyzed him and he looked desperately for his servant while sticking close to the buildings—the only objects that didn’t seem to be moving out of control. He stopped a few people to ask if they had seen Merlin, but most shook their head and moved on quickly. Praying that Merlin would find him, he continued to walk, starting and stopping with a crowd that seemed to be directed by strange lights that signaled when to let the transports move by. And yet, with all this chaos, he was drawn to this new Camelot. It was magnificent and alarming and he wanted to see it all.

Arthur tried to figure out his location from his knowledge of the city he remembered. He had a keen sense for cartography, but from what he could tell, Camelot was now much bigger and nothing was familiar. He ached to see a friendly face and soon after he did.

“Owain!!!!”

The man looked around trying to place the voice calling out to him. Confusion turned to fear when Arthur hugged him brusquely in greeting. “Gods...thank..., I’m glad for...no..glad to...to see you!”

Owain looked around nervously, “I don’t think I know you”

“It’s Arthurrrr. It’s me. I…I…can’t believe I--f..f..ound you." He struggled with words that he understood but seemed odd on his tongue and lips, he rushed on as he pulled the letter from his pocket, “Mer...Merlin wrote note...wrote _me, me_ this note. I need...I need help. Do...do...do _you_ know where he...Merlin...is?”

As the man backed up, clearly looking to get away, Arthur began to realize his mistake and stopped talking. It was evident that this was not the Owain he knew. A perfect likeness was all.

Arthur made one more attempt and reached out to put his hand on the man’s shoulder. But the Owain of this world pulled away, mumbling something about “loonies,” and disappeared into the crowd. It suddenly occurred to Arthur that everyone he ever knew was dead. Merlin had written "a very, very long time." All that Arthur saw around him confirmed this to be true.

The next person he stopped was someone he gratefully did not recognize. He took a deep breath. “Madam." He made a slight bow and smiled. Then wrinkling his brow in concentration, he continued. "Please. Can you...tell me what year this is?”

He didn’t notice how she looked at him oddly and then hurried away, because her response shook him to the core and the world tilted as everything went out of focus. Confusion grabbed and shook him into despair.

 _Over a thousand years…A thousand years!_ This really was no longer his Camelot.

He looked at the page again, anchoring himself to Merlin’s words, "Don’t be alarmed…"

He was terrified.

What about Merlin? He must still be here or there would have been no note or clothing. He prayed that the magic that made his fingers tingle when he touched the letter, and then filled his mind with the understanding of a new language still kept Merlin alive. Arthur would find his friend. He could not imagine making his way through this world without him.

As the afternoon wore on, Arthur tired of the noise from the traffic and machinery that droned throughout the city. It would take getting used to and he tried to block it out by softly practicing this strange new speech. Once he felt more confident and grew bored of the exercise, he began to sing the words. After a few minutes, a ridiculous tune came to mind. One that Merlin had learned from the bard who came through Camelot the Spring before they lost Morgana. Arthur hummed the tune, searching for the lyrics. _Something with goats_. _Of course!_ _The bullock stirs, the goat farts._ He remembered that because each time Merlin had sung that part, he had let out a little giggle. When he finally had it all in his head, Arthur sang a little louder.

_"Summer has come in,_

_Loudly sing, cuckoo!_

_The seed grows and the meadow blooms_

_And the wood springs anew,_

_Sing, cuckoo!_

_The ewe bleats after the lamb_

_The cow lows after the calf._

_The bullock stirs, the goat farts,_

_Merrily sing, Cuckoo!_

_Cuckoo, cuckoo, well you sing, cuckoo;_

_Don’t ever you stop now."_

He was rather enjoying himself, unaware of the horrified stares from those he passed. Clearly it was a ludicrous song that he never would have been caught singing in his chambers, never mind in front of his knights. In fact, Merlin had all but driven him crazy, repeating it all over the castle for weeks—singing loudest when he got to the last line.

 _Don’t ever you stop now_.

And then starting all over to prove that he didn’t plan to.

“No, Merlin, _really_ , stop… _NOW_ ! _”_ Arthur had sent his servant away with an order to muck out the stables. “Entertain the horses with your wailing.”

But, here in this unfamiliar world, the song was oddly calming.

Until.

“What are you doing?” 

Startled, he looked around to see a familiar young woman. _Gwen_.  

Arthur had to stop himself from calling her by name. He had learned the hard way with Owain and would have to be more careful. But this woman looked so much like his Gwen. Trying to ignore the tug in his heart for the one who, in another time, would have smiled fondly and kissed his cheek, all he could come up with was a confused, “Huh?”

“They will put you in prison for a month, if you are not careful.”

“What? Who? What are you talking about?” He may be in some form of trouble but at least he wasn't struggling with his words like an idiot anymore.

He glanced around to see if he had somehow trespassed. But he was on the street, along with many others who also happened to be looking at him in consternation. 

Lowering her voice, “You were singing.”

He leaned down to her and with a wink whispered back, “Yes, I was. Was I annoying you?” It really was taking everything he had not to hug her to him.   

She stepped back. “Are you one of them?” she asked fearfully. “One of the Resistance?”

“What? No. What are you talking about? I’m just singing a simple song.”

“You cannot sing or hum.”  

“True, I have never been the best at holding a tune…or reciting poetry, for that matter. Although my governess did teach me to play the flute when I was a small boy and I did pretty well with…”

“No, no NO, you can’t be serious.” She actually looked scared, "It is against the law.” 

Arthur let out a laugh and then immediately stopped concerned that the woman might be addlebrained. For a moment they stared at each other worrying about the other’s sanity.

The woman tried again. “All music, art and storytelling is illegal. Everyone knows that. Don’t you live here?”

“No, I have been away for a long time. I’m sorry to give you fright, M’Lady. My name is Arthur.” 

Gwen looked startled, “Arthur? You really aren’t from here. I haven’t met anyone with that in a very long time.”

“It’s a common enough name where I am from.” 

Gwen nodded. “My name is Gwen.” 

He took a deep breath and felt a wave of homesickness. 

“Arthur? Are you okay? Maybe you should sit down.”

Arthur cleared his throat and blinked, forcing back tears that were threatening to gather in his eyes. "I've walked most of today to get here. I'm just tired...and hungry.” He looked around at the busy street. “I must find my friend. He will help me figure this all out." With little hope Arthur asked, "Do you know a fellow named Merlin?”

Gwen thought for a moment and then shook her head, “I’m sorry I don’t. Does he live here in Camelot?”  

“I don’t know, but I think I was supposed to meet him here.”

Gwen looked around and then her face took on a look of concentration as if trying to decide something. She bit worriedly at her lip and then said. "Okay, then. Look, my flat is just around the corner. I can give you some food and maybe we can find out if this friend of yours is in Camelot.” 

Whatever a flat was Arthur was just happy to have someone to talk to and relieved to know that there would be food at this flattened place. He doubted that there were many others who have been so accepting of a stranger. But this was Gwen and in Arthur's Camelot her gentle heart had never been able to turn away someone in need.

On the way to her home, Gwen tried to explain to a dubious Arthur about the laws of Camelot. “…and the ban was enacted by Chancellor Pendragon, twenty years ago.”

Arthur froze. Pendragon. Could a Pendragon still be reigning over Camelot? The pieces of the puzzle fell into place. Gwen didn’t have to say his first name. Banned twenty years ago. A ban that probably was similar to the one that his father decreed not long after Arthur’s birth. He had no doubt that the Chancellor would have his father’s likeness. “Father....I mean Uther. Is his name Uther?”

“Yes, Uther…Are you alright?” Gwen was starting to worry that this man really was imbalanced.

“Does he have a son?”

“A son? No…He did, but he and the Chancellor's wife died.”

So much like his world, yet different. 

“Arthur?” She touched his sleeve.

He smiled. “I’m fine...just hungry, I think.”

“Then let's get you something to eat and I will tell you all the news of Camelot."

It was over a meal of tasteless peculiar food that Arthur learned about the city and this new Gwen. Her life was quite different in this world, but her kindness, intelligence, humor and trust were true to the Gwen he had loved.

If it weren’t for Gwen, Arthur probably would not have made it a week in the city without being arrested. They quickly formed a friendship. She had generously offered him her guest room until he found a place of his own. Gwen didn't pry into his past except to occasionally ask what kind of place he came from that didn't have modern appliances. But she never made fun of his questions, which in retrospect must have sounded daft. She also fitted him with clothes and taught him how to use the various strange devices that people used in this society. He was fascinated by the brilliant way plumbing worked, exasperating Gwen with an obsessive amount of questions. 

"It's called the loo, Arthur…No, I don't know why it's called that, it just is…Yes, it's much better than going in a chamber pot, that's for sure… No, oh my God, stop that, Arthur. Quit flushing the toilet, my water bills are already high enough thanks to you and your ridiculous showers.”

Arthur would just laugh and continue his interrogations as he praised the virtues of plumbing.

Gwen also taught Arthur about Camelot. Work seemed to be the overwhelming theme. Arthur had the impression that the citizens worked ceaselessly to a very old age. Regardless of Arthur’s need to find Merlin, Gwen seemed intent on securing Arthur a job first. And when he asked why it couldn’t wait, she would respond with, "Because of expenses like the water bills, Arthur…No, water isn't free. I already explained it to you --"

Arthur was amazed and excited by Camelot’s transformation. There were some laws that concerned him, but looking at the stunning beauty of the city and the flawless technology, he felt it was a fair trade-off. The Uther of this world had clearly led his people into a time of prosperity. Many of the problems that Arthur had wrestled with as King of Camelot had been solved. There was almost no crime. And no plagues! That in itself was miraculous. The people worked hard, but there was never a lack of food—albeit bland food—no matter the season. 

Arthur admired this Uther and was curious to learn more. It was no longer Arthur’s Camelot, but he was content with that. Any leader who could achieve all this deserved to be King…or Chancellor. However, there was a niggling concern that magic was still outlawed, but he didn’t bring the subject up to Gwen. He would let Merlin explain that to him. At the moment, he had much to learn. 

At dinner one night, Gwen and Arthur discussed the kind of work he might be do. She worried that it wouldn’t be long before someone in the government took notice and asked for his work documents. So after teaching Arthur about the city, finding him a job had been the next order of business. She hemmed and hawed uncomfortably through their meal until Arthur put down his fork and looked pointedly at her. She smiled and shyly admitted that he was handsome enough to join the guard.

Arthur looked at her quizzically. “What does my appearance have to do with being in the army? Two of the best warriors I ever knew had faces as hideous as boars."

“Guard, not army.” She corrected. “And Chancellor Pendragon chooses only the best looking men to represent the city. Aesthetics have always been important to the Chancellor.” 

Arthur shook his head. “What does it matter, if they do their job?” This Uther was sometimes quite like his father. Skills and bravery had taken a back seat to lineage. Now countenance was more desirable than experience and skills.

As if reading his mind, Gwen continued, "Besides you won't need any real skills for this.” 

"Excuse me!? I'll have you know that skills...."

"Arthur please. Believe me when I say that you can easily be trained to be one of the guard.” Gwen clearly wasn’t going to argue with Arthur and his strange notions. “Look, I have a friend who works in the government. He might be able to help.”

Two weeks later, Arthur took his place among Camelot’s elite guard. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

Merlin’s stomach ached from laughter. As the giggling subsided and he wiped the tears from his eyes, Arthur smiled sadly at him. Then only a slight vibration remained to remind Merlin of the memory he had just given up. He tilted his head in confusion, eyes unfocused, “What’s so funny?”

Arthur looked away. There was a brief flash in the sky. Merlin would never get used to the dazed, empty feeling of memory loss. He wondered if the great dragon was now chuckling at whatever had made Merlin laugh just seconds before.

As the drug-induced pain was replaced with one of pleasure, Arthur entered the cave. Merlin closed his eyes as the second drug snaked its way through his body. He had learned not to resist and within seconds he relaxed into a haze of euphoria. As he slipped away, he heard Freya's voice calling out to him.

Several hours later, Merlin opened his eyes as the drug wore off. Arthur was beside him as he always was when Merlin returned. The king opened his mouth to speak when Freya's soft voice entered Merlin’s mind again. Just broken pieces of memories remained. It was near her time and she would soon just be a vessel of magic. She was reaching out one last time, asking what many of the others before her had. “Who am I?”

He longed to explain, but he knew that was fruitless. In these last moments, he could only comfort. “You are strength, and kindness, and love.”

He felt her smile.  

Merlin’s heart had broken when he first sensed Freya's thoughts coming from one of the tank rooms, two months earlier. After nine years, he had hoped she would have found safety far from Albion. But Freya would never give up as long as her friends were still imprisoned.

During the first few days after her capture, Freya had shared the news of the outside world and of the resistance. The news was bleak _Merlin, there are so few of us left. Last month, several druids came from outside Albion to help, but when they saw that less than twenty of us remained, they returned to their homes. I haven’t seen a sorcerer in two years. Some escaped to other countries, but most were captured. There is nowhere left to hide. The spirits of Albion’s natural places have despaired and returned to the Otherworld. Our beautiful sacred sites are now wasteland._

It was more of what he had heard from the others. Merlin had given up on saving the physical world. For now, his only purpose was to protect the knowledge of the druids and sorcerers so that perhaps one day it could be used to heal Albion.

Merlin then told Freya all that he understood of their prison. He could sense her grief and anger as he explained the fate of those captured by the government and what she could expect. Freya was stronger than most and she vowed to fight. And she did. She resisted the addiction to the bliss drug and held on to her memories longer than the others had. But, the Doloramine did its job. Not once did she give up her knowledge willingly, and she paid for it dearly with excruciating pain. Merlin was sickened by what was happening and begged her to release her memories willingly, promising he would keep them safe. But she would not listen.

Sounding weaker now, Freya communicated one more time, "I don't want to forget."

He had no response for her. He looked towards the cave wondering how much longer before he too would ask, _Who am I_ **_?_ **

****

Nine Years Earlier

The arrests began shortly after Aredian's mysterious disappearance from the Druid camp. It didn't take long to figure out who was behind the betrayal. Merlin had not trusted him. Not that Aredian had shown himself to be trustworthy in any lifetime. His cruelty and cunning deception had followed him through the ages.

Normally, Merlin gave those who had reincarnated the benefit of the doubt until he got to know them. He had learned to be patient with those journeying from lifetime to lifetime. Never remembering the past, sometimes they evolved little, like Aredian and Uther. However, others learned from their mistakes. Merlin never knew who would change. Occasionally a good soul turned bad, and he had to watch for that. He suspected that between lifetimes they reflected on their deeds. Perhaps they were somehow held accountable for what they had done in this world. His immortality ensured he was not privy to much of what happened in the next world and the transformations to the soul while there. So, he endeavored to treat each reincarnated friend or foe as an entirely new person. That wasn’t always easy when there were intense feelings of familiarity involved, especially when it came to Hunith or Gaius. He had met them in quite a few of their lifetimes, just as he had come across the others who he had known in his early days in Camelot.

All except two.

As the centuries passed, there was an ever growing urgency to protect the knowledge of the druids. The stories, history, culture, and magic that was handed down from druid to druid was a precious thread, connecting man to the worlds of nature and spirit. The sorcerers had their own legacy of power. Both the druids and sorcerers flowed with a lineage that had nearly ended during the great purge, and that was once again in danger of being destroyed. As they were born, lived and died the one constant was the transfer of knowledge. It was a gift to themselves and to their future generations, and Merlin would protect it with his very being.

Sorcerers and druids had not always lived peacefully side-by-side. But after the most recent Uther’s rise to power, they were being persecuted once again. It was Merlin who had convinced them to let go of any resentments and unite as one. And thank gods they had because they were being hunted outside the walls of Camelot just as they had been over a thousand years ago.

It was a cool, crisp morning, a few days before Samhain. Frost was still on the ground and Merlin and Freya warmed themselves by a small fire as they ate breakfast and discussed the disappearance of Aredian. It was during a break in their conversation that Merlin heard someone running towards them through the woods. He stood sensing fear. Mordred burst out of the woods, face streaked with tears and dirt. Merlin reached out and caught the eight-year-old boy as he nearly crashed into him, "Mordred, are you alright?"

“Help...help...them," Mordred gasped, between gulping sobs.

"Who, Mordred? Who needs help?" Merlin knelt down in front of the shaking boy and gently held his shoulders.

“Soldiers…Mum.” Mordred began weeping uncontrollably.

Merlin looked up at Freya’s panicked face. “Freya, could you run and get Mordred some water." He then turned back to the hysterical boy, "Mordred, I want you to take slow deep breaths like you do when you prepare for your spells.”

Mordred closed his eyes, tears continuing to stream down his face. Features sewn together in concentration, he tried to regulate his breathing in between hiccups, until he finally gained some control and opened his eyes.

Freya returned and handed Merlin a cup of water. Merlin held the cup to the boys lips. “Good boy, now take a drink...not too fast.”

Freya’s fingers brushed through Mordred’s hair and he seemed to calm.

“Better?” Merlin smiled at him.

Mordred nodded and then shook his head. “No.” His eyes were filled with terror, “Soldiers, soldiers, my mum…”

“Mordred, you are safe. But you must be brave and tell us what happened so we can help. Can you do that?”

Mordred nodded and the story came out in sobs and gasps.

He had been picking blackberries for breakfast when he had heard his mother’s screams. Running back to the cottage he stopped at the shocking sight of three soldiers confronting his parents. One of them grabbed his mother's arm and growled, "The woman is the sorceress, dispose of the male."

His mother had screamed as a flash from a weapon hit his father's chest, dropping him to the ground. Mordred had almost screamed. He had stepped out from behind the tree that concealed him to protect his mother when he heard her voice in his head. _No, Mordred, stop. You must run. Find Merlin. As fast as you can._

Mordred squirmed in Merlin’s arms. “I think my Father is…”  He twisted around, looking at the woods.

Merlin tried to distract him, “Mordred, can you hear your mother now?”

Mordred shook his head, “No, I keep trying, but she doesn’t answer.”

For the first time in his life, the link between Mordred and his parents had been broken. Merlin closed his eyes and reached his mind out to Cerdan and Anna. There was nothing. He looked up at Freya and shook his head. He did not sense that Anna had died, but he could not feel her at all. Cerdan was another story. Merlin knew he was dead.

That was the beginning of the second purge.  

Merlin was born after the start of the first Great Purge so his knowledge of the events was through books and those who had lived through it. He feared this time would be much worse. Since the deaths of Uther’s wife and son, it had been dangerous to enter Camelot. Any druid or sorcerer, discovered within the city, could be caught and executed. But now they were being hunted outside the gates.

Later that week, Merlin visited the tower of Avalon. Sitting cross-legged on the stone bench, he shared the news with Arthur, “They found us. It was Aredian. He has joined Uther and we are being hunted.”

He paused, wishing he could forget what was happening in Albion and just stay here until Arthur awoke. The Isle of Avalon was not of the world of the living and was the only place Merlin felt safe. If only Avalon could serve as a sanctuary for his friends. But, they could not visit the island, never mind see it. It kept Arthur protected until his return.

“I brought you more clothes." Merlin placed his hand on the the soft shirt he had purchased from a shop on the outskirts of Camelot. He never told the others about these trips to the city. They knew the legend of the Once and Future King and that when Albion's need was greatest, he would return. But it was just a myth to them and they didn't know that Merlin had been this king's friend and servant, and that he had continued to visit and care for him for over a thousand years. They only knew that Merlin was a great sorcerer who had lived a long time. Merlin rarely talked of the legend. He knew better than to get their hopes up. His hopes for Arthur's return had been dashed too many times.

"These are more comfortable than the last. I think you will like them, Arthur.”

They certainly were much better than some of the outlandish styles he had left with Arthur over the years. He could only imagine Arthur’s refusal to wear some of the more ridiculous outfits.

“Merlin, I will not wear this ludicrous garment.”

“You must.”

“I won’t.”

“Damnit Arthur, this is the style!”

“Shut up Merlin, and have the court seamstress make something more appropriate for the King of Camelot.”

Eye-rolling would ensue followed by more arguments and possible pouting.

Merlin smiled at the thought. He caressed the dull gray shirt and dark trousers folded neatly beside him, wondering how Arthur would look wearing the clothes of modern Camelot. They weren't his preferred choice of dress for his king, There should have been more color...perhaps a bit of gold or red. But it was important that he not put himself in danger by calling attention to himself.

Bringing clothes to Arthur was a routine that began at the time of the Renaissance. During the Black Plague, Merlin thought there was a likely chance of Arthur’s return. Clothing had not been an issue before that. If Arthur had somehow made his way to the villages without Merlin, he might have looked out of place, but a few odd glances would have been the worst of it. However, in 1398, anyone looking or acting odd could easily have been suspected of being a witch. Merlin didn’t want Arthur’s first day back to end on a burning pyre. So, he had supplied him with the appropriate attire of the time. As styles changed throughout the years, Merlin found the ritual of choosing outfits and delivering them to Arthur familiar and calming. This was something he could do for his king. He longed for the day he could dress Arthur again, making him ready for his entrance into the world.

On the other hand, Merlin had wondered if destiny had meant for Arthur to appear to the people in his own garments. Over the years, Merlin had come across a myriad of Arthurian art—some of it downright laughable. But the one he remembered most was a painting of King Arthur—not resembling his Arthur in the least—astride a great steed, a wild angry look on the king’s face, armor shining in the sun, Excalibur at his side. Perhaps Arthur was meant to charge into the world, awakening his subjects to his return. Raising his sword to the sky, he would bring them to their knees in awe and respect. After all, how would people recognize their king? But clearly that day was not today, as Arthur continued to sleep while Excalibur rested in the waters below.

Merlin sighed and continued his discourse to keep the cold silence at bay and force life into the room. As much as Merlin dreaded talking about the persecution of the druids and sorcerers, he hated the silence in the tower even more. But he also talked in hopes that some piece of news regarding an impending disaster would nudge Arthur awake.

“The resistance met last night. We have lost eight people. Mordred is staying with Freya while we figure out how to get his mother and the others back. Oh, don’t worry! Mordred can be trusted. He’s a good boy and you would like him this time.”

Merlin paused, not holding back tears as this was one of the few places he allowed his emotions free rein, “The worst part is that I can’t hear their voices. I know they aren’t dead, but somehow they have been silenced."

Merlin looked away, ashamed to admit his failure. He whispered, directing his words more to himself than to Arthur. "I shouldn't have trusted Aredian. He has never changed."

He looked back at Arthur, talking as if expecting an answer, "But he also has not had this kind of power before. I wonder if his hatred of magic had to do with his latent powers. Do you think Uther knows Aredian has magic? That wouldn't make sense, would it?" Merlin rubbed his face in frustration. "I don't know....Uther doesn’t seem to have changed either. But Arthur, I think if you were here you might convince him to see things differently this time.”

Merlin sighed and stood up. “I have to get back.”

He rested his hand on Arthur’s chest, so desperately wanting to feel a heartbeat. “We’re moving again. I don’t know how they keep finding us.”  

But he did suspect. They were always discovered just days after the capture one of their own. Merlin tried not to think about his friends being tortured, but he had no other explanation.

When Merlin returned to the camp, he found the others gathered around a woman whose face was hidden by the hood of her cloak.

Merlin called out, "Why aren’t you getting ready, we don’t have much time?”

Aglain turned around relieved, “Merlin! You are back. There is someone…”

Merlin didn’t hear the rest. As the woman looked towards him her face was revealed. His ears buzzed, the world seemed to tilt, and he couldn’t catch his breath.

 _Morgana_.

He hoped he would never see her again, but here she was standing before him. In that moment, Merlin re-lived all of the cruelty and hate that had led to Arthur’s death. Rage pushed its way up until its bitter taste filled his mouth. He stepped forward, raising his hand, his magic burning inside him to get out.

Morgana said nothing. She did nothing. The air was charged with his power. The druids stepped back, except Aglain who grabbed his arm. “What are you doing? She is here to help us.”

Merlin shook him off, “She is here to kill.”

Morgana spoke in a quiet voice, “No. I am not. I only want to help. Please let me. I have news.”

“Merlin do you know this woman?” Freya was standing away from the others, Mordred at her side, regarding the stranger with curiosity.

Merlin panicked and he stepped in front of Freya and Mordred, blocking them from Morgana. “Freya, get Mordred out of here…NOW!”

Confused looks passed between the druids, but Freya guided Mordred to her tent without question.

Morgana had returned for the first time since he had he had ended her life. He had expected it might happen someday, but nothing prepared him for the intensity of hate that he felt. It didn’t matter that she looked less like the evil sorceress and more like the woman he had befriended when he had first come to Camelot. Her features were softer, younger. Her clothes were simple, worn, and dirty. But, it was the witch.

The group had gone silent, looking from Merlin to Morgana expectantly. Morgana, whose head was now bowed, brought her hand up to wipe strands of tangled hair away from her face. Merlin acted immediately, his magic flaring out to create a bubble around her.

“Merlin, what the hell are you doing?” Iseldir stepped forward, ready to get between Merlin and Morgana, “Aglain told you, she is here to help!”  

Merlin turned on Iseldir, prepared to push her out of the way, but stopped at the looks of shock around him. He could not kill Morgana in front of them. They would never understand. “I know her.” was all he said.

Morgana had knelt down inside the bubble, out of fear? deference? Or perhaps just out of exhaustion. Iseldir spoke calmly, hoping to get through to Merlin. “She has come a long way to give us some news. She knows what is happening to the others.”  

Merlin looked at the Morgana. _This is a trick. She is working with Aredian_. He had no idea how strong Morgana’s magic was, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. He raised his hand again. He heard gasps from the others and Morgana cowered. But all he did was reinforce the bubble. “None of you will go near her while I am gone.” He looked at each of his friends, challenging them to resist. When there was no argument, he turned to leave. He must get Excalibur.

As he walked away, she called out to him, “Please, let me explain. I was told you are the one I need to speak with. Please, they're stealing their minds.”

Merlin stopped and stiffened. He did not turn around.

“Please, Merlin, it is important.”

Hearing her speak his name infuriated him even more. Merlin would not be tricked and he would never trust her. He hurried on towards the forest.

Aglain caught up with him, grabbing Merlin's arm. “Look, I don’t know who she is or what she has done, but I think we should listen to her. What harm would it do to hear what she has to say?”  

Merlin hesitated and thought for a moment, and then shook his head, _All the harm in the world_. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, nobody goes near her.”

“We should give her some food and water.”

“ _I said_ …don’t go near her for any reason. I will take care of that when I return.”

Aglain nodded and reluctantly returned to the others, moving them out of the area.

Merlin stepped into the forest, but decided against going to the lake. Even in her prison, he didn’t trust Morgana alone with the others. Instead he walked the perimeter of the camp to give himself time to collect his thoughts and to check for any sign of spells that Morgana might have cast.

A couple of hours later, Merlin had moved Morgana, still trapped by the bubble, to his tent. They didn’t have time for this. They had to prepare to leave in the next few days before they were discovered. But if they took Morgana her knowledge of the new hiding place could endanger them all. So this matter had to be resolved before they moved. Killing her was the best solution.

Morgana mostly stayed quiet except for the occasional question, which was returned with cold silence. When he brought her food, she thanked him. He grappled with many different emotions as he watched her throughout the day. It was her eyes—her grateful look when he brought her a meal—that finally impelled him to attempt to look within her. He could not sense the vengeful Morgana or the hatred he knew her capable of. As the day wore on, he was thinking less about killing her and more about the information she had to offer.  

When Aglain came to his tent later, Merlin blocked the entrance. Aglain pushed forward to move past him, “Merlin, what have you done? Let me see her."

Merlin stubbornly held his ground, "No, Aglain. It's too dangerous”

"Answer me! Have you harmed her?"

"She is fine, I just can't let you in." Merlin saw the surprised expressions from the druids standing nearby. Raised voices between Merlin and any of the druids and sorcerers was a rarity. He knew he was scaring the others, but he couldn't let them near Morgana until he was sure that she would not hurt them.

Aglain’s eldest son, Boden, who had been standing nearby, moved towards them to intercede, but Aglain held up a hand to stop him. He turned back to Merlin, his voice quieter, but firm. "We have always adhered to the law that no one person can make decisions that will affect the rest. We vote when there is a disagreement. We must do that now."

“Aglain, you have no idea what this woman is capable of. You do not understand.”

“Then explain it to me. Explain it to all of us. Then let us decide her fate…because I assume that you are thinking of killing her.”

Merlin startled at hearing it said aloud. He looked away from Aglain's accusing stare. “Alright. But, just give me the night. We will meet to discuss this in the morning. I promise not to hurt her.”

Aglain nodded. “You know where to find me, if you need to talk.” and he left.

Morgana, having heard the exchange between the two men, looked up expectantly when Merlin returned. Without a word, he handed her a blanket and then readied himself for a sleepless night. In the morning he would decide her fate. For once they would have to accept his decision.

  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

_ Merlin _ .

It was market day and the courtyard below was filled with merchants, Camelot’s residents, and visitors from nearby villages. Sounds of horses hooves on cobblestone, and the creaking and rolling of wooden wagons piled with food and wares, floated up through Arthur's open window. Leon shouted for someone to get out of the way. Little girls squealed with delight as a group of young boys called out challenges, sticks striking together in a battle for the title of Bravest Knight.

_ Merlin _

But a real battle was being fought in Arthur’s room where he lay in his bed, unconscious and groaning from sickness. He had been unresponsive to Gaius’s ministrations, and the physician had returned to his chamber for more medicine. Merlin wiped beads of sweat from the King’s brow with a cool damp cloth, trying to ignore the approaching intruder. If Arthur would just wake up, he knew he could save him from the imminent danger.

_ Merlin _ . 

She was at the door, voice more insistent.

Arthur shot up in bed, eyes snapping open, mouth wide in a silent scream. Merlin was torn between comforting Arthur and running to the door to stop the witch. He cried out for the guards. The room began to shake.

_ Merlin! _

Morgana’s voice reverberated throughout the room, as she passed through the closed door. Merlin raised his hand, but his magic recoiled in alarm. Cursing his fear, he reached for Arthur’s sword, but the weight of it was too much. It would not budge from its place near the King. As he gripped it tighter, the sword turned to water and flowed down through the floor. 

Merlin looked at Arthur who was lying quietly. But now he was on a bed of stone. The room altered and the three of them were in the tower on Avalon. Panic gripped Merlin.  _ She can’t be here _ . 

Screaming, he ran towards Morgana, “Don’t touch him! I won’t let you hurt him! Get out! GET OUT!!!”

A look of shock crossed Morgana’s face as she disappeared. But he could still hear her voice.  _ Merlin, listen _ .

Arthur melted, along with the rest of the dream. 

Fully awake and gasping, Merlin scanned the tent for danger. Darkness surrounded him. Morgana’s form, sitting on the floor, was revealed by a sliver of moonlight from an opening in the tent flap.

“Scin scire” Merlin’s eyes glowed gold and the room lit up.

He glared at Morgana, wanting to end her life now.

_ Merlin, you were dreaming _ .  _ I thought if I tried to communicate with you in your sleep, you might listen. I’m sorry, I was not trying to deceive you. _

She had the druid’s gift of silent communication. Again, he felt no anger or treachery from her, just sadness and… perhaps loneliness. 

A myriad of emotions swirled inside of him in direct opposition to her composed demeanor. Shaking off his confusion, he ran his hand through his hair and resigned himself to listening to her. “What do you want, Morgana?”

She continued to communicate with her mind,  _ You were protecting someone. In your dream _ .

Merlin didn’t respond.  

_ Protecting him from me. _

Merlin gripped the bedding, ready to spring up, unsure if it was to run away or to stop her from continuing. 

_ I won’t hurt anyone. _

Merlin growled, “You already have.”

Morgana spoke, “Merlin, please I….”

“Just tell me why you’re here.”

“Alright.” 

Morgana paused and took a deep breath. She clenched her hands nervously but looked at him with conviction.  _ Merlin, I can show you what I know, if you let me.  _

Merlin watched her face for any sign of betrayal. When he saw none, he nodded, closed his eyes and his mind reached out to meet hers.

She opened the door to her vision and Merlin stepped in. They journeyed through the cold labyrinths of the government facility until they were just inside a darkened room. The soft green glow from thirty tanks revealed his friends, suspended and unable to fight against the tubes inserted into their naked bodies. Of all the things he had imagined, nothing had prepared him for this. How much could they feel? Could they think? Did they know?

_ Why are they doing this to them? Why not just kill them? _

He could not see Morgana but her voice surrounded him.  _ I have been having dreams of this for a few months. I still don’t understand everything. I know they are being drugged and their minds being emptied by a man named Aredian. _

Merlin’s heart shattered into a million pieces. He had been worried about torture, but this was so much worse.  _ What does he want with them? We must get them out. How do we get them out, Morgana? _

_ I…don’t…I…don’t know. _

He pulled away from Morgana’s mind and the nightmare in front of him. I don’t want to see anymore.

As the room dissolved, Morgana called after him,  _ You must know the rest. _

Reluctantly, he reconnected with her vision and found himself back, only this time he was in a different room. 

_ Gods, the children. _

Merlin futilely tried to reach out to one of them and his mind screamed in frustration. 

He couldn’t remain there. It was tearing him apart to see this and not be able to help them. His eyes snapped open and he was back in the tent. 

Morgana sat cross-legged on the ground watching him. She nodded, moisture in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Merlin.”

Merlin wiped tears from his cheeks. “What else? What’s going to happen to them?”

Morgana spoke softly, “The fact that your hiding places are discovered so soon after one of you have been taken, suggests that this man, Aredian, has somehow gained access to their thoughts. It isn’t clear exactly what, but I do know he plans to use what he learns for more than just capturing druids and sorcerers. I know that his goals are dark.”  

Merlin was quiet. He stared down at the floor, shaking his head in shock. If Aredian attained the secrets of the druids and sorcerers there was no telling what he might do with that knowledge. 

“Merlin? Merlin.”

He looked up. “Yes, I’m listening.”

“I do know that even though Aredian purports to be following Chancellor Pendragon, he has his own agenda. But then the same can be said of Uther. They are both deceiving the other and that is why I can’t see clearly what will happen. There are two possible outcomes. And, now that you know the truth, there are three.”

Dreading her answer, Merlin asked, ”What are the three outcomes?”

"The first is that Uther will finally rid the world of all those with magic. The wasteland will envelope the earth, and all connections to nature and the spirit world will be severed. The second, Aredian will gain enough knowledge and power from the druids and sorcerers to betray and defeat Uther. He may not kill all the sorcerers that remain in the world, but he will expect them to follow him. With his followers he will invade the other countries, release evil into the world and bring about hell on earth.

Morgana stopped speaking, waiting for her words to sink in. 

Merlin's head ached. He wished she were lying, but deep inside he knew that her words were the truth. “Please tell me that the third outcome is a little more encouraging.”

“Well… now that you know the truth, the third outcome is that you stop it." 

“Oh.” 

Merlin dropped his head into his hands and he rubbed his face. "Any idea how I am to do this?

"No."

"Of course not." 

"Merlin, you need to..."

"Stop." 

He stood up and walked to the doorway. Pulling back the flap, he looked out onto the small camp. The sun would rise soon and only a few of the druids were up. He couldn’t see any sorcerers but he knew they would be on their morning patrols to check and reinforce the protection spells surrounding the camp. It was an exercise in futility as it hadn’t stopped Aredian’s men from finding them. 

Some of the others busied themselves outside their tents, getting ready for the upcoming move. Iseldir and Aglain spoke quietly at the edge of the clearing. Finna worked in the center of of the circle of tents. She brushed back her white hair and straightened her small frame. Raising her hand, a spark appeared in the air and then settled onto the ground, blossoming into a flame. She did this three times. It wouldn’t be long before the inviting scents of breakfast cooking would wake the rest. 

The scene before Merlin was almost timeless. He had seen these moments play out many times over a thousand years. The druids had rejected technology, preferring to live simply, relying on their magic and the knowledge of the ancestors. The trees surrounding them hid any signs of the modern world and was one of the few forests left in Albion. With the loss of even more woodlands, their next hiding place would have to be a cave.

He needed to share Morgana’s vision with the others, but for now he had more questions for her. He closed the flap and approached her. “Where did you come from?” 

Morgana shook her head, clearly resigned to the fact that Merlin was unwilling to discuss with her his role in this war. "Up until a few weeks ago, I lived with my parents in the southern uplands of Scotland. Most people prefer the bigger towns, so we were left to live in peace." 

“How long have you been a seer?”

"My parents were druids with no magical abilities to speak of. They studied the ancient ways and my mother knew a few simple spells. But when I was eight I began having dreams of the future. I often dreamt of the cities and my parents feared this was a sign that I would leave them. But I had no interest. Those who lived in a megalopolis contributed to the eradication of nature. They were dependent on technology and no longer were guided by the turn of the seasons or appreciated gifts from the earth. The wasteland around the cities, especially Camelot, was growing each day. I wanted nothing to do with it and hated the dreams that showed me those places.”  

“And yet, here you are Morgana. Why is that?”

“Believe me, I didn't want to leave my home, but the dreams grew in intensity. They were like nothing I had ever experienced. I would wake up screaming, terrifying my parents. I had to do something. The visions told me that there was a darkness in Camelot that posed a threat to all druids and anyone with magic.”

Merlin felt a chill run through him. This was how it started before, and what had ultimately turned Morgana evil. He braced himself for the answer to his next question, “Are your prophetic dreams your only form of magic?”

“I think so.”

“You think so.” Voice cold, his eyes narrowed. “Don’t you know?”

“I have never tried.”

Merlin closed his eyes and reached out with his power. He could not sense any magic coming from Morgana but he had to hear it from her. Any sign indicating that she had an interest in magic, good or bad, would have sealed her fate. He would not let his soft heart be fooled again. Oh, for some advice from Kilgharrah. Had he been alive, Merlin would have followed his direction, no matter what it was. This time, if the dragon had told him he must, he would not have hesitated to take Morgana’s life. It is what he should do. Isn’t it? 

When Aglain showed up at Merlin’s tent later that morning, he found Merlin and Morgana sitting on the ground together, talking quietly. He sighed with relief that Morgana was no longer imprisoned by the bubble. He raised his eyebrows and Merlin responded, “You are right. We need to listen to Morgana. Get everyone together and we will be out soon.”

After a difficult meeting that brought many to tears and rage at Aredian’s actions, the devastated resistance members returned to their tents to finish preparations for the move. Once they were at the new camp, they would meet again to discuss solutions.

Morgana had begged to stay with the group. Merlin had given her a choice. She could return home before they moved, or she could stay but he would bind any potential powers and she was not to be left alone at any time. And, for the time being, she would have to be placed in the bubble at night. 

Morgana chose to stay.

Over the next few weeks, Merlin watched closely as Morgana earned the respect and friendship of the others. She accepted the most arduous tasks in the camp without complaint. She was gentle and caring, and especially kind to the children who had been left without parents. Except Mordred. Merlin would not let her near Mordred. The others were confused by his behavior and especially at his coldness towards Morgana, often witnessing him snap at her in anger. This wasn’t their Merlin. 

A month after Morgana joined the resistance, she showed up in Merlin’s tent with his breakfast. He looked up in surprise.

Morgana smiled shyly, “You have not eaten.” 

“Not hungry. I am busy.” He returned his attention to his books, searching for any clue as to the kind of magic Aredian might be using to steal memories.

Morgana did not leave but stood quietly by him, holding the plate. Merlin had gotten used to her silence and her avoidance of him, so clearly this was important. But, he still ignored her. Morgana’s humbleness was unnerving. He had to keep a clear head when around her. 

“I’ve been having more dreams.”

Merlin shifted in his chair, “Tell me.”

“It is not just their knowledge that they want, Uther is going to use their magic.”

“Uther?!” Merlin put down he book, “For what?”

“I’m not quite sure. Something to do with powering the city. Maybe. But, I can’t quite…" Her voice trailed off as she closed her eyes, hoping the answer would come to her.  

“You saw this in your dreams? Are you sure it was Uther and not Aredian?”

She nodded.

“This makes no sense. Uther hates magic.”  

“I know…I can’t help what I see.”

Morgana was still holding the plate out for him. Merlin sighed and took it with a nod and thanked her. As she left the tent, he wondered exactly when it was that he had started to trust her.

Merlin met with the council several times over the next few weeks. Morgana was always at his side. He tried to convince himself that it was to keep her close, to watch for any sign of betrayal. But, he soon found himself relying on her insights. They would often talk late into the night, sometimes comparing his theories about what Uther and Aredian might be planning, and looking for clues in her visions. They would discuss what would happen if they could not save the others and made plans for that possible future. All the while he struggled with a simmering guilt. It was as if he were betraying Arthur by allowing her to live.

With the sometimes confusing information from Morgana’s dreams, and the fear that they would continue to be hunted, tension was growing at the council meetings. 

“We need a way to get them back, now!” Finna said, signaling her growing frustration with too much talk and not enough action.

Merlin frowned at the old woman whose frail body contradicted by her strong determination. She was one of the bravest souls he had ever known. Each lifetime she had performed heroic acts to save her people. Twice she had given her life for them. He knew she would walk right into the government facility without hesitation. He nodded in agreement, but gritted his teeth. There was no way to safely do this. They could lose even more of their people. “We do, but at what risk?”

“It doesn’t matter. We can’t leave them,” said an agitated Iseldir, who Merlin usually depended on to calm the group. “We don't have any choice but to get them.”

Aglain argued, “And hand over even more of our knowledge to Aredian? That makes no sense. I say that we go far away where we won’t be hunted.”

Voices rose in anger arguing for and against saving the others.

Merlin spoke firmly,  “At this point, we have not come up with a solution to save our friends. Until we do, we cannot afford to lose any more of us. We must leave the area and warn others with magic not to go near the city. That is our job.”

Finna started to argue. Merlin stopped her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Finna, For now… _ that _ is our job.” 

She glared at him, but nodded. The rest grew quiet. They could not argue with that. Not one of them had come up with a way of getting through the city unnoticed, never mind breaking into the government facility. They could at least keep themselves safe and travel as far as it took to get away from Uther’s reign. They would have a better chance of survival if they joined forces with other druids and sorcerers. Maybe they could even find a way to fight Uther. They knew what they should do, but nothing more was decided that evening. 

A week later, the resistance moved again. This would be their last hiding place before leaving Albion. Merlin started to rely on Morgana for help and support. As the others grew more apprehensive, Morgana stayed calm. Merlin felt focused and relaxed around her. She often worked quietly nearby, mending the children’s torn clothes or reading. She was there for him when he had a question about her dreams or to make sure that he ate. A part of him healed during that time. The hate he had carried over the centuries began to fall away to reveal a tender spot for Morgana that he had not felt for over a thousand years. When she was away from him he felt uneasy and even lonely. 

The day arrived for their long journey away from Camelot. They still were unsure about leaving, but continuing to move from place to place in Uther’s country was dangerous. As the group sat down to their last breakfast, Morgana helped a young druid girl pick up some flowers she had dropped.  “I need to take these with me, Morgana. They were my mother’s favorites.” 

Morgana lifted the child up on to a log. “We will place them right beside you while you eat your food.” 

The girl smiled at Morgana and grabbed at her skirt. “Would you sit beside me?” 

Morgana placed a kiss on top of the soft blond curls, “I would be honored to sit with you.”

The child clapped her hands and giggled in glee. Merlin smiled at the sweet moment. 

Freya approached the group with a bowl of steaming grains, “Where is Mordred?”  

“He said he was going to say goodbye to his father,” said a young boy as he stuffed a chunk of bread in his mouth.

Merlin froze. Cerdan had been buried two miles from the camp.

Everyone moved at once. Stricken, Freya dropped the food on the ground and ran towards the woods, “We need to find Mordred before he is captured.”

“Wait!” Merlin called out. 

It took a few moments to stop them from all going after Mordred. Once he had the group’s focus, Merlin spoke, “We know where he went. Let’s not put everyone in danger. Aglain and I have the strongest magic. We will go. Isolde, bring me your staff.”

Isolde ran to her tent and returned with the magical weapon. Merlin took the staff and handed it over to Aglain. His magic was weaker than Merlin’s and it would protect him. 

“The rest of you stay here and get ready to leave as soon as we return with Mordred. Morgana, I need you to…Morgana?….Morgana!?

But Morgana was gone. Merlin’s stomach clenched in dread. What had just happened?

As the two men rushed through the forest towards the gravesite, Merlin’s thoughts jumped irrationally back and forth between fear that Morgana would be harmed, to terror that she was about to betray them.

_ Morgana, please don’t hurt him. Please don’t take him. _

But there was no response from her.

When they reached Cerdan’s grave he almost wished it had been the latter. They found her lying on the ground, an ugly wound in her side. Merlin kneeled next to her. Morgana looked pale, so vulnerable. 

Her words were shaky with distress and blood loss. “It happened so fast. I couldn’t stop them. They have him, Merlin. I begged to go with them but they told me I didn’t have enough magic.” She gasped, “Gods this hurts.” 

They carried her back to the camp and laid her on soft bedding. He knew she wouldn’t make it. There was nothing he could do, even though he tried over and over. His magic was useless when the wound was this bad. He stayed with her all day and through the night while the others took turns keeping vigil outside his tent. 

Just before dawn she opened her eyes, and cried out. 

Merlin held her hand, “It’s okay, You are safe at the camp.”

“Dream, dream,” she mumbled. "Merlin, you can’t leave.”

Merlin squeezed her hand, trying to calm her, "I’m here, I won’t go.”

“No you can’t leave with the druids. There is nowhere to hide. They will find you anywhere you go. You must save the others. Save Mordred. You must stop Uther from getting their powers. You are the only one who can. You must go to them.”

Merlin tried to push his anguish aside and focus on her words, “Okay, what else did you see?”

“I don’t know….I don’t…a weapon some kind of weapon.”  

“What do you mean? A weapon they are going to use against us?” 

She struggled to sit up. “I can’t see, I don’t know.”

Merlin held her. “Morgana, please rest. I promise I will save them.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. His heart ached. He could feel her slipping away, her voice just a whisper, "I’m so sorry, Merlin.”  

“Nothing to be sorry for. You did good.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. 

“I could hear your thoughts back in the woods. You were afraid I was going to betray you. You thought I would take Mordred to Aredian.”

Merlin looked away and then back into her eyes. “I’m sorry. I was wrong to think that.” 

As she lay in his arms dying she had a small smile on her face. “I would never betray you again.” 

“I know, I know you wouldn’t. You are my friend.”

“I am. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Merlin held her failing body closer and whispered into her ear, “There is no reason to be sorry. You did nothing but help us. It is I who should apologize.” 

“No, I am sorry for the other time.”

“What other ti….” And then Merlin understood. He sensed all of Morgana’s memories. She had always known who she had been. Unlike the others she had memories of her past life. “Morgana…”  There were tears in both their eyes. 

“Merlin, forgive me. I hope you find Arthur. When you do, tell him I’m sorry.” With that her body relaxed and she was gone.

Merlin pulled her tight against him, rocking back and forth sobbing. “No, no, no, no…please don’t leave me.” 

The grief for Morgana was almost as unbearable as what he had felt for Arthur. In some ways it was worse. He re-lived the guilt and pain from their other life and he grieved for the friendship they might have had. She had been the only one who understood that part of him that belonged to Arthur’s Camelot. The knowledge that she had found redemption was the only peace he felt from her loss.

Merlin made the decision that he would allow himself to be captured. He left a note for the others telling them to move on without him and then went to see Arthur for the last time. Along with a set of new clothes was a letter detailing all that had happened and warning Arthur of the dangers. It would replace Merlin’s simple message left during his last visit.    

As Merlin stepped into the boat that would take him to Arthur for perhaps the last time, a numbing pain hit him in the shoulder. They had found him. The world moved in slow motion and he couldn’t reach his magic. As he succumbed to the drug that had been shot into him by one of Uther’s guards, the pouch holding the letter slipped into the lake. In the remaining seconds of consciousness Merlin felt a deep sadness that he would not be able to say goodbye to Arthur.


	6. Chapter 6

 

Arthur grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with a clear liquid. As he knocked back the bland concoction of vitamins and minerals, he eyed his half-eaten breakfast and longed for the lavish foods served at the celebrations in his Camelot. And, what he wouldn’t give for a tankard of mead!

He scanned the streets below leading up to the Government Center. The City, clean and shiny, sparkled with light which flooded every room in his flat. Only closing the blinds and turning on the sound mufflers gave the perception of night. His initial amazement at the perpetual artificial daylight under the dome of the city had waned after three years. He missed the warmth of the sun, a strong wind carrying the smell of an oncoming storm, and the cool drops of an early morning rain on his face. He longed to ride out of Camelot on horseback, sleep under the stars and wake to the scents and sounds of nature. But, time spent outside of the city only happened on rare patrols, never at night, and certainly never on horseback.

Each morning, Arthur looked down on the city and thought of Merlin. After three years, he was no closer to finding his friend than the day he had arrived in Camelot. There had been no indication that Merlin had ever been here. But Arthur was sure that if Merlin could return to him, he would. So, he had come to fear the worst…that his friend had been injured or forced to leave the city or… He tried not to think of Merlin dying. Not now. Not after Merlin had survived so many years. Could he die from old age? If he did, did he die alone or with someone there to comfort him? Or perhaps he hadn’t died and something more chilling had happened? Was Arthur too late? What had Gaius said about Merlin? _He’s the greatest sorcerer ever to walk the earth_. Arthur held on to those words hoping that Merlin’s power had kept him alive. However, in this world, Merlin’s magic might have been his undoing.

Gwen had not said much about magic except that it was illegal and magic users were imprisoned. When pressed for more information all she had said was that many years ago, before technology could identify sorcerers, someone she loved had been falsely accused and put to death.

Fear had washed over Arthur. “Executed? They still execute people?”

“That was fifteen years ago, Arthur. There haven’t been any executions for at least nine years.”

“What do they do with them now?”

Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know. I haven’t heard of any being caught in a long time." There was a catch in her voice as if trying to hold back her emotions. "They may have all left Albion.”

Not wanting to upset her any further, Arthur had changed the subject.

It wasn’t until after he had joined the Guard that he had discovered there still were magic users in Albion and that they were being actively hunted. Special teams had been put in place just for that purpose—although his team was not one of them. Thank gods. But, he and his men had been taught the protocol when coming across a suspected magic user. Each one of the guard carried a small device with a button called a Drillic-com. When pressed, it would send out an alert to all the teams that a person with magic had been discovered. Agravaine had spent the better part of a day instructing Arthur’s team on the dangers of the resistance and the importance of reporting one, if found. Any member of the guard found not wearing his Drillic-com would be reassigned immediately.

If Merlin had been executed, Arthur would know. One of the few public documents in the government archives was a list of those who had been convicted and put to death for treason. During their Drillic-com instruction, Agravaine had explained that because magic users were intent on taking down the government, practicing magic was considered an act of treason.

Arthur had spent an afternoon searching the pages of the list. Amazingly, the documents dated back over a thousand years to the time of his own birth. Guilt washed over him when he came across some familiar names. He had been responsible for some of these deaths. He had shaken off the feeling and focused on checking the more recent dates, praying he wouldn’t see Merlin’s name.

Merlin was not on the list.

And the executions had indeed stopped nine years ago, with the last one being a boy of nineteen who had been caught conjuring the image of a dragon. Arthur had covered his mouth with his hand, keeping the groan from escaping. Gods, that was the spell Merlin had done to prove to Arthur he had magic. This boy had probably never done anything wrong in his life. He was killed for a simple trick. This could have been Merlin. And at one time, he or his Father could have sentenced Merlin to death for the same act. No! No, he would never have harmed Merlin.

But what had changed nine years ago? Had the trials and formal executions been replaced with cold murder? A couple of his teammates had told him stories of magic users being dragged away. But they had never witnessed any being killed. Where did they take them?

He would continue to search for Merlin, and his position with the Guard made it easy to do while working. Patrolling the streets of Camelot offered Arthur more opportunities to continue his search. But as of yet there hadn’t been a single clue to Merlin’s whereabouts and Arthur was beginning to resign himself to a life without his friend.

Uther was waiting for his weekly report. Arthur used that as the excuse to avoid finishing his breakfast, even though he would be half an hour early. As he stepped out onto the street, he wondered if today he might convince the Chancellor that it would be beneficial for his men to train outside the city. The fact that he could even consider asking Uther something like this showed how far he had come in his relationship with the Chancellor since first joining the Guard.

Gwen had been right. Enlisting in the Guard had been as simple as filling out a request and being interviewed. There was no test of skills or requirement to show lineage…just a few meetings with a couple of public servants who looked like they would rather be anywhere else. The government officials seemed more concerned about his height, weight, and how the photo on his government I.D looked. He was issued a few weapons, hastily given directions on how to use them, and been assigned to a team. Arthur had looked forward to again being part of a group of men whose job it was to protect Camelot. He had missed the camaraderie of the knights. However, he ended up having nothing in common with his fellow soldiers except a strong build and good looks.

Where Arthur had taken to his duties with great passion, the others on his team put in their time with little enthusiasm and collected their wages. They weren't concerned about whether or not they did a good job. Some of them had snickered when it was announced that Arthur would be promoted to Captain of the team. The former team Captain looked relieved to be back in the ranks and the others were happy that they weren’t chosen. Arthur soon understood why the men had no ambition. His salary hadn’t changed, and with the exception of choosing the streets they would patrol within their district, and running the government's predetermined daily drills, he was more of a figurehead. His role in the Guard had no real significance, and his men thought him a fool and naive for aspiring to a thankless position.

Gwen had teased him. “Why do you want more work? You are a strange man, Arthur Peterson.” He still cringed at the surname that he had taken to ensure that he was in no way linked to Uther.

“Because I have pride, Gwen. Why wouldn’t a man want to better himself and improve his standing in the world. Why wouldn’t anyone want to feel honor in their accomplishments?”

“Well, because it is all the same, isn’t it? It doesn’t matter what you do. The only people who make the real decisions are the government officials, and it was decided long ago who would be worthy of that status. You had to be born into a powerful family. The rest of us have no say. You could easily be transferred to a laboratory job tomorrow and someone who runs the food machines could be assigned to lead a team of the armed guard.”

Arthur mumbled, "It matters to me."

But instead of continuing to argue, Arthur had sighed and changed the subject. Since moving to his own flat he didn't get to see Gwen as often as he liked. The last thing he wanted was to fight with her.

He had met Uther a few months after being promoted to captain. It was a rare occasion that the Chancellor deigned to make an appearance at morning roll call, but in that instance, Arthur’s team had been responsible for catching a criminal. Crime was almost unheard of in the city. So, when someone broke the law it was a big deal. And when the Armed Guard captured or killed that someone, it was an even bigger deal.

The Chancellor had walked down the row of men, standing at attention. He did not acknowledge any of them until he stopped in front of Arthur. Arthur’s heart was beating fast as he had tried not to reveal any emotion to the man who was so much like as his father.

“I hear that you are our hero.”

“Sir?”

Marshall Agravaine sneered behind Uther. “Actually, Chancellor, he broke protocol.”

Arthur’s face did not reveal the annoyance he felt for his commanding officer. This Agravaine was no different from his Uncle. He was still a smarmy weasel who would betray his own mother for a modicum of power. It was clear that Agravaine hated it when Arthur or any of his men received accolades. But break protocol was exactly what he had done.

The day before Uther appeared at roll call, Arthur and his men had been out patrolling Sixth Street when they were surprised by the sound of screams. A woman appeared, pointing to a man who was running away. “He stole my food” she screamed in outrage.

The man was heading towards an alley. The soldiers at first seemed confused. Then one aimed his weapon.

“Don’t kill him,” Arthur ordered. He had seen these men shoot and they were more likely to kill the victim. To his men’s surprise, he took chase. He could hear laughter from them as he followed the man around the corner, where he caught up to the thief as he was about to enter a building. In a matter of minutes, Arthur had pulled the man away from the door and had him facing the wall.

“Don’t hurt me. Please,” the terrified man pleaded. He was thin and clearly starving. His clothes were dirty and torn. Arthur wondered if he was one of the resistance and wanted to question him before his men got to the scene.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

The man looked around desperately and held out the small bag of groceries. “Take it. I’m sorry, please don’t kill me."

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to ask you…”

Arthur felt a quick tug at his side. He looked down to see his weapon flip forward and discharge. The man slumped to the ground, bag slipping from his hands, the contents spilling out on the pavement. Arthur let out a cry and grabbed the weapon before it did more damage.

He could hear his men coming up behind him as he stared at the offending weapon. He turned to them and held it up, his hands and voice shaking. “I didn’t do it. I didn’t shoot him.”

It was finally clear why fighting skills were not required. The weapons had been set to kill criminals and also been set to discharge if the soldier did not take action. He had no control—not over his men, his life, not even over his own weapon. They hadn't even bothered to tell him.

Now, as he stood in front of Uther he felt the same confusion, shame and combative feelings he had whenever his father had chastised him for doing something that Arthur had felt was true and right.

“Is that true, Captain? You broke protocol?”

“Yes sir.”

Uther regarded Arthur with accusing eyes, “Why did you do that?”

Agravaine's smirked, clearly enjoying the Chancellor's annoyance with Arthur.

“Sir, I ordered the men not to shoot to avoid hitting the victim.”

Uther chuckled. “Well, there wasn’t much chance of that.”

“I see that now, Sir.”

“On the other hand, I must admit you took initiative. What is your name?”

Agravaine’s smile faltered.

“Peterson, Sir. Arthur Peterson.”

Uther's face relayed a series of expressions: bewilderment, sadness, and perhaps anger. Then he nodded and moved on.

The Chancellor signaled for Agravaine to follow him out into the hall and they spoke for a few moments. Or, more to the point, the Chancellor spoke as Agravaine listened, body stiffening at some distasteful information being communicated. When Agravaine returned his was face flushed and jaw clenched. He approached Arthur and stood in front of him for a few minutes, silent, thinking.

Arthur waited for his orders.

Agravaine then smiled vindictively and said, “Unfortunately, Peterson, tomorrow you will report to the Chancellor’s office before you go on duty. Too bad you brought attention to yourself. Seems that the Chancellor is not pleased with your actions today.”

“Yes, sir.”

Agravaine dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

No matter what the cost, Arthur had refused to regret his actions. They patrolled the streets every day. Criminal activity was so rare that Arthur was eager to do some good. He found himself looking for anyone in need of help. Perhaps a visitor who was lost, or a homeless dog who would have normally been shot by another guard, or a child who had dropped a toy down the city pipe system. He would go out of his way to find and help anyone or anything. His men openly derided him. But as long as they didn’t have to participate, they put up with it. And of course, he searched for his servant, sometimes discreetly asking people he helped if they knew Merlin. Now that could all change.

That next morning, after a sleepless night, Arthur walked into Uther’s office for the first time. He had expected a dressing down or to be reassigned. But, what possible reason would Uther have for calling him to his office when he could just as easily have ordered Agravaine to reassign him? However, Uther seemed less interested in talking and more interested in hearing what Arthur had to say…if he was listening at all. Most of the meeting Uther spent looking out the window as Arthur responded to questions. From the moment he entered the Chancellor’s office, when Uther addressed him by his first name in almost a familial way, he had been rattled.

It was rare for anyone in Albion under the age of twenty-six to be called Arthur. After a Chancellor named his first child it was considered a serious breach of etiquette for other parents in the country to give their babies that name. Uther’s wife had announced their baby’s name six months before the birth and from then on, new parents who had their hopes set on naming their son Arthur, chose another. Some even went so far as to change the name of a child that was under a year old so as not to insult the ruling family. When Uther’s wife and son had died, giving a child the name Arthur was still avoided out of deference to Uther’s grief.

Arthur was well aware that had Uther’s son lived he would now be Arthur’s age. Well, at least the age that Arthur appeared to be.

Finally, Uther turned from the window and faced Arthur, “Marshall Agravaine informed me that you have been asking for extra drill time for your men. Is that true?”

“Yes, sir.”

“That is an unusual request. Are you hoping for more money? Because if you are, you will not get it.”

“Not at all Sir. I thought since myself and the team had extra time on our hands, I might spend early mornings training the men in fighting skills.”

Uther looked at him oddly, “The men have their drills, which are sufficient. Why do you want to train them?”

“To keep them fit, Sir.” Arthur was both relieved and nervous that he finally had the Chancellor’s attention. He tried another attempt, appealing to the Chancellor’s aesthetic values.  “I thought that if the men trained they would look fighting fit. They would be more agile and show more strength.”

Arthur waited, his heart beating fast. He wasn’t sure how Uther was taking this. His face was unreadable and Arthur wondered if he would find himself working with the food machines the next day.

“Look fighting fit.” Uther repeated. He seemed to be weighing a decision. “I like that Peterson. But it doesn’t take any skill to discharge our weapons.”

Arthur took a deep breath. He never thought he would ever be standing in this office, never mind requesting anything from the Chancellor. But, he understood his father and if this Uther was anything like him, he knew what would impress him. “I understand that, Sir. I would like to suggest training the men to use some of Camelot’s ancient weapons.”

The Chancellor frowned.

“We wouldn’t carry them during our patrols. They would just be for a show of skills.

“Where would you get these weapons?”

“Sir, I discovered swords and other weapons in the lower half of the old museum that was being excavated a few months back. The one on the edge of the west side of Camelot where-.

Uther interrupted, curtly, "I know my own city, Captain."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, I didn't meant to imply that you didn't."

Uthered nodded.

Arthur proceeded trying not to show his nervousness. "Sir, those weapons would serve us well and I can blunt the edges of the swords so that nobody is hurt.”

Uther snorted, “Swords? Well, Peterson that is an interesting idea.”

Uther turned back to the window in thought. Then, after a few moments, “Perhaps once the men are fighting fit, as you say, they could train in the government center courtyard. It would be advantageous for the public to witness the Guard's display of strength. Perhaps it would ensure that we have no more incidents of thievery like the one we had this week."

Arthur waiting, holding his breath.

Finally, Uther decided. "Yes, you may proceed and we will reevaluate this in a few months.”

That morning, Arthur shared the training goals with his team. Some of the men’s glares were downright murderous. It was unfortunate that they now had another reason to resent him and he hoped that would they would come to appreciate the challenges and benefits of weapons training. However, he did cheer up considerably when he noticed a seething Agravaine, nearby. Regardless of how anyone felt, they had begun early morning trainings two days later.

A month later, Uther had made a special visit to observe one of Arthur’s training sessions. Most of the team had continued to complain, and refused to put any real effort into the extra work that had come with no extra pay or benefits. But to Arthur's relief, a few had taken to the challenge. Gwen’s brother, Elyan, had been one of those. He had joined the team just before training began and Arthur was glad for his support.

Gwen had told Arthur that even though Elyan hated to admit it, he had been rather inspired listening to Arthur discuss his plans for training practice. Elyan had barely gotten in a word as Arthur animatedly discussed his ideas over dinner, while Gwen shook her head in amusement. Arthur was a good friend and Elyan was willing to give it a try.

Then there was Lance, another new member of the guard, who was eager to go along with anything Arthur suggested and had turned out to be a half decent sword fighter. The day Lance joined the team, Arthur felt he actually had a chance to get the men on board with his ideas. The Lance from a thousand years ago and the Lance of today were identical in looks and personality, and Arthur expected he would become a good friend.

Arthur smiled as Elyan advanced, Lance easily blocking the man’s strike causing Elyan to stumble. Lance and Elyan had a long way to go before their skills rivaled that of their counterparts in early Camelot, but they were coming along and right now, Arthur was just grateful that they were putting effort into this.

“Well, this is quite a show.”

Arthur startled at the Chancellor’s voice and came to attention. “Sir!"

"Relax, Captain. I just came to see how the training was coming along."

“I’m sorry we aren’t better prepared to show you a more skilled display, but I promise the men are working hard and are improving.”

“Not to worry, Arthur. I’m sure they will soon excel under your leadership." He nodded towards Elyan and Lance, “These two are doing quite well.”

Arthur continued to be surprised at Uther’s familiarity. “Yes, sir. They've been practicing. The others are going to need more encouragement.”

Personally Arthur wished he could push them a lot harder, but if any one of them complained to Agravaine, the training could be discontinued.

“Are you telling me that the other men don’t want to participate?”

“Well...Sir, let’s say they’re not as enthusiastic.”

“Captain, if they don’t like the skills training, then I advise you to find men who do.”

This was unexpected. “Really? I mean, Yes, Sir.”

“Make up a list of those who are unwilling to train and a list of those who you would like on your team and give it to Agravaine. We will make sure you are assigned men worthy of your training.”

Arthur could barely contain a big grin. “Yes, Sir.”

  



	7. Chapter 7

Aredian ground his teeth in frustration as Uther stared out the window in fascination. It had been four months since Peterson’s men had begun training in the government center courtyard. And, despite Aredian’s hopes to the contrary, the Chancellor showed no signs of wearying of his ridiculous obsession with the team’s exercises. Uther had gone so far as to move his early morning meetings down to the first floor conference room so he would have a better view of the activities. This did not go over well with attendees who ended up sharing Uther’s attention with a bunch of worthless subordinates playing with archaic weapons. 

Laughter and cheering erupted outside from a crowd that grew larger by the day. Uther chuckled at some challenge that had been taken up by one of the Guard. Aredian held back an impatient sigh and cleared his throat in hopes that the Chancellor would get on with their discussion.

Uther disregarded his minister. Instead, he nodded in appraisal at the men and said, “The team is in fine form. I do believe these morning exercises have been a overwhelming success.”

After Aredian endured another ten minutes of the Chancellor’s commentary on the team’s various maneuvers, Uther finally addressed him. “Really, you should take some time to watch what Arthur is accomplishing with his team. Their sword skills have improved immensely. Arthur is quite proficient wielding ancient weapons. He’s especially skilled with the mace.”

Was that pride in Uther’s voice? The thought made the minister uneasy. The informal, almost affable, attitude the Chancellor had recently shown towards the team's Captain put Aredian on alert. Uther’s unusual attachment to the man was troublesome. What were his motivations? And when the hell had Uther started referring to a Guard captain by his first name?

When Aredian did not respond, Uther turned to face him. “I’ve been considering having Arthur train the other Guard captains so that drills can be observed throughout the city. Perhaps we will even have the teams compete. What do you think?”

Aredian muffled a grunt of displeasure and answered with a bit too much annoyance in his voice, “What purpose does it serve to have the Guard practicing with a bunch of useless weapons?”

With a withering glare at his minister, Uther abruptly changed the subject, “What do you have for me?”

Realizing his misstep, Aredian quickly got on with business. “All the Biogen have reached purity, except two. One is a female, Biogen-210, and it will be ready in a few days. The other is Merlin.”

Uther frowned at the use of the sorcerer’s true name. “Is it ready for use?”  

“We are getting closer. Merl…Biogen-32 is extraordinarily powerful. We have sped up the process. However, I am afraid its powers will be weakened if we put any more stress on the body. Also, if he were to reach purity, he would not have any awareness to tie him to the others. We cannot proceed without that connection, even though a small amount of cognizance means the possibility of him resisting.”

Uther stared at Aredian, his jaw working in frustration, “And how much has this one Biogen’s resistance slowed us down so far?” Uther slammed the palms of his hands down on the table. “Damnit, Aredian! You gave me your word that this would not fail. Our scientists have been ready for weeks to transport the Biogen to the targeted cities around the world. The leaders of those cities expect their clean power source to be delivered on time. And without this Biogen, we have no weapons!" Uther leaned over the table menacingly, “Are you telling me that all this might be for nothing?”

Although Aredian remained outwardly calm, a cold fear spread through him. If this didn’t succeed he would be on the run, and he might not get far. The Chancellor allowed him to live for one purpose. If that purpose no longer existed, neither would Uther’s need for him. Aredian very much doubted that Uther would be willing to listen to a plan B.

Aredian needed to assuage the Chancellor’s fears. “Not at all, Sir. I have a solution."

Uther's eyes narrowed, "Go on. And you better be right."

"I am. It is as simple as introducing an hallucinogen into Biogen-32’s system. The drug, Quiesamide, will make it susceptible to suggestions without harming the powers. Controlling its mind will ensure all goes as planned.”

“And then what?”

“Because of its connection to the others, I have been able to sense Biogen-32’s thoughts through their minds, and it believes it is helping them." At Uther’s alarmed look, Aredian quickly added, “Which is exactly what we want. Unlike the other Biogen, 32 has not released its own memories. Instead it has found a way to somehow bury them in its subconscious.” 

“And you have a solution to this problem?”

“Frankly, I don’t think it matters anymore. As the others have reached purity, Biogen-32 has turned inward and now seems to be carrying on conversations with voices in its head. He is losing sense of reality which is a good indication that his mind can be easily manipulated.” 

“Aredian, you told me that they all know you betrayed them. Even with drugs, just how do you expect to convince it?”

“It won’t know it is me. I will be reaching it through the mind of Biogen-210. The druid woman’s recent capture was fortuitous. When I lived among them, it was clear that Biogen-32 was exceptionally fond of this woman. Now that 210’s mind is empty enough to be malleable, I can use it to get to him.” 

He disliked discussing his own magic with Uther...it was a reminder that Aredian possessed the very thing that Uther wanted to destroy. Regardless, sometimes it was unavoidable. 

“Then do it. Our buyers won’t wait much longer before searching for other power sources. We need those Biogen in place for the final phase.” Sufficiently appeased, Uther turned his attention back to window.

As Aredian waited for any final orders, he reflected back to ten years ago when he had made the risky decision to enter the gates of Camelot and place himself at the mercy of the Chancellor. With the intention of gaining the ultimate power, Aredian had promised his loyalty and a solution to ridding the world entirely of magic. It was a gamble that had paid off. He had downplayed his own powers and convinced Uther that with Camelot’s technology and Aredian's intel on the magic users, all the druids and sorcerers in Albion could be captured. His plan to get close to Uther and have unfettered access to the minds of those they imprisoned had worked, but not without a few hitches. 

Uther, without consideration, had been ready to immediately execute the prisoners. That would not do; Aredian needed them alive. He had quickly interceded with a deferential suggestion that Uther consider using them as a power source. 

At first, the idea of breaking his own magic ban had disgusted Uther. Fortunately, Aredian had convinced him that without the evil intent and will behind the sorcerers' powers, the magic was benign and available for Uther to use as he wished. Aredian had entreated, “Why not take advantage of this opportunity and not think of it as magic, but as a resource to help the city?” With that, he had secured his place in the government and could then use Uther’s fear of magic against him.

Wizardry was the fundamental motivation for Uther’s need to control the rest of the world. If it weren’t for the desire to eliminate all druids and sorcerers, the Chancellor probably wouldn’t have felt the need to invade and conquer. When it came to the leaders of nations who had been neutral on magic and who mostly left druids and sorcerers to live in peace, Uther had been very convincing when petitioning them to outlaw its use. His exaggerated claims and often outright lies of the dangers of allowing magic in society had its desired effect.  

Music, art, and storytelling had been another matter. Uther believed that the arts held mystical elements and could lead to magic use. However, he was solidly rejected when demanding that other countries criminalize their cultural entertainment. Had the leaders conceded in this, Uther would not have turned to more forceful solutions.

Once Aredian had convinced Uther to take advantage of the Biogen as a power source, it hadn’t been long before Uther began contemplating how he could use them for his military needs. One day he called the minister to his office to ask, “Can the Biogen be used as weapons?”

Aredian inwardly rejoiced, “I have no doubt that they can, Sir.”

“What about bombs? Can they be used as bombs?”

It had taken several months of trial and error by Camelot’s top secret clearance scientists, and a month after that to figure out the logistics, before the plan was finally in place. Biogen-32 had a connection to the others and with Aredian’s help that connection would be leveraged to send enough power to the other Biogen to detonate bombs that would be embedded in their bodies. Not only would Uther have weapons powerful enough to force other countries to outlaw magic, he would also destroy Albion’s magic users in the process. 

Uther’s decision to use the Biogen to attack other countries in this manner was when fortune had truly turned in Aredian’s favor. Once he had obtained the prisoners’ knowledge, it would take very little magic to overpower Uther’s mind. Nobody would know Aredian was pulling the strings until after Uther’s death. By that time, Aredian would be set to step in as leader of Albion. And with Uther planning to invade other nations, Aredian could look forward to ruling so much more than Albion. He could not help but feel glee at the irony of Uther destroying magic with magic. The Chancellor’s obsession to eradicate magic had given Aredian the key to manipulating him and would ultimately be the Chancellor’s downfall.

For now, Aredian would have to put up with Uther and his preoccupation with Peterson's team. Did Uther even remember that he was in the room? Aredian coughed and without even a glance, Uther dismissed him with a wave of his hand. 

Aredian had just opened the door to leave when Uther spoke once more, “By the way, how is it going with the artifacts?”

The minister stiffened ever so slightly, “The artifacts?”

With obvious feigned patience, Uther responded. “Yes, Aredian...the artifacts.”  

Aredian took a breath and then turned to face the Chancellor who watched him with eyebrows raised in anticipation. It had been awhile since Uther had brought up the objects that Aredian had been charged with finding. He had gained even more favor, and the title of minister, when he had informed Uther that the memories from the Biogen had revealed the location of sacred places and magical artifacts. Uther had been thrilled at this discovery and the idea of finding and eradicating every last remnant of magic. Aredian had been just as happy, as many of those relics had been retrieved and were now well-hidden in a cave three miles outside of Camelot while their non-magical facsimiles had been destroyed under Agravaine’s watch.

Deceiving Uther was a dangerous game and under the Chancellor’s intense gaze, Aredian chose his next words carefully. “I think…Sir…we are getting to the last of them. It has been awhile since I have discovered any more.” 

Aredian had been caught off guard and had hesitated a moment too long. The Chancellor’s eyes narrowed. Aredian forced a steady voice, “Also, as I told you sir, Biogen-32 has put up barriers. I am not able to get as much information as I once did. As soon as the others are gone, I can focus on taking what we need from its mind.”

“And you can assure me that this Biogen will not be destroyed when it detonates the others?”

“Sir, it will only be directing its power. It is the other Biogen who will be killed. I will, however, continue to try and extract information, but it does take time to search for the relics.” 

“See that you do. There's not to be one single magical relic or place left in Albion. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

Once again, the Chancellor looked out the window and casually added, “I am going to assign some men to help you with your searches.”

Aredian felt his stomach clench. “Sir, is that wise? The fewer people who know about this, the better.”

Uther’s next words were cold with anger, “Are you questioning my judgement?”

“No, Chancellor, it is just that…”

“Then you will follow my orders. Captain Peterson's team will join you the next time you search for artifacts.”

Uther never missed an opportunity to punish subordinates for their dissent and now Aredian was paying for sharing his displeasure of the Armed Guard’s unique training. 

“Now Minster, I do believe you have some work to do with that Biogen.” 

Aredian left the room hastily, not waiting for a second gesture of dismissal. Fists clenched, he hurried down to the Biogen rooms. He was so close to finding all the artifacts. The last thing he needed was a bunch of brainless Guardsman getting in the way. Having Peterson's team to deal with would be problematic. Especially the Captain, who took his job much too seriously. He might have to dispatch that one if he got in the way.

Aredian conveniently found Gaius working in Merlin's room. Startling the old man when he barked out, “I need you to administer Quiesamide to this Biogen.”

Gaius looked at Aredian with surprise and then distrust. “An Hallucinogen? Why?”  

“Gaius, at what point did you decide that you could question my orders?” He shoved the bottle he had taken from the medical closet into Gaius’s hand. “Be sure it is a full dose.”

Gaius sighed and nodded.

“I will be back in fifteen minutes to do some work, and will need peace. So find somewhere else to be.”

Aredian was about to leave when he registered the look of contempt on Gaius’s face. “On second thought, I will stay here with you until you are finished. Then, you can take the rest of the morning off.” 

With folded arms, Aredian waited as Gaius removed the cap from the bottle and went to the tank. While Gaius administered the hallucinogen, Aredian walked up behind him and stood so close to the old man, he was practically breathing down his neck. Aredian knew Gaius had a soft spot for this one and he wasn’t going to give him the opportunity to do anything foolish. 

Job completed, Gaius left the room without a word or glance at the minister. As the Quiesamide invaded Merlin’s body, Aredian felt a cruel satisfaction in what he was about to do. “You have caused me no end of trouble. Not any more. Your mind is mine now.” 

Entering their minds was simple. Right after the capture of the first druid, Aredian had been ecstatic to discover that their altered state opened the door for him see their memories. He hoped to obtain all their knowledge before their thoughts were gone. And in the beginning, it had worked. Wandering the minds of a druid or sorcerer had been like exploring a room full of treasure. He took what would serve him, and left the rest. 

It was Merlin who had put an end to Aredian’s plunder of this sacred wisdom. The day after Merlin arrived, he had connected to the minds of the other Biogen and it became nearly impossible to glean anything from their thoughts.

That day, like all the others, Aredian had arrived early before the technicians showed up for work. He had gone into one of the rooms, pressed both his hands to the glass of a tank, closed his eyes, and entered into a meditative state. He had connected his mind to the female Biogen and then waited for the familiar feeling of drifting down a gentle river as it wound its way into a cavern of thoughts. Once there, he would float peacefully as those thoughts swirled around him. Gaining the knowledge was merely a matter of reaching out with his mind to touch the ephemeral memories. 

That time, as he drifted, there was a dizzying vibration that grew in intensity. All at once, he violently struck a barrier. His awareness snapped back, returning to his own body which was shaking from the shock. Although Aredian had used all his concentration to regain entrance, he had been barred from the Biogen’s mind. 

Racing from tank to tank, panic rising, he had tried futilely to reconnect, always with the same results: he would see a glimpse of their mind and then his own would be forcibly pushed out. But in those few seconds, he had became aware of a glowing thread…a golden cord. By the time he had gotten to the fourth Biogen, he could sense Merlin reaching through that cord. The bastard had found a way to connect with all of them and Aredian had lost his access. 

When the technicians arrived to work later that morning, Aredian had ordered Merlin’s tank be moved to a room away from the others. But it didn’t make a difference. Honestly, he hadn’t expected it to. The cold iron that had been built into the outer walls of the building to keep magic from passing through, did not extend to the walls separating the rooms. 

Furious, Aredian had considered killing Merlin but could not bear the thought of losing the vast knowledge the sorcerer held within his mind. Of all the magic users, it was Merlin’s secrets that he coveted the most.

Over the next few days, Aredian had tried different ways to gain access to the minds of the Biogen. He had no luck until…

“Sir, Biogen-48 is ninety-five percent pure.”

Aredian, who had been in his office concentrating on trying to remember any magic spell that might break Merlin’s connection, cursed and snapped at the technician. “So, why are you telling me? Keep an eye on it and when it reaches one hundred percent, turn off the drugs.” 

It was bad enough that he couldn’t keep a physical record of the spells obtained from the druids and sorcerers, for fear of Uther finding out, he also had to contend with a bunch of laboratory idiots who distracted him from accessing the spells in his own mind.  

The technician flinched in fear, “I’m sorry, sir. It’s just that the readings from the tank are unusual and I…”

“Fine, fine. I will look at it.”

He had little use for the Biogen who were almost pure. They would be exploited later for Uther’s purposes. Nevertheless, he didn’t want to face the Chancellor’s ire if something happened to one of them.

When he had entered the Biogen room he’d found 48 motionless in the tank, as it should be. Looking at the vitals display he saw that the technician was right. There seemed to be some unusual brain activity. His first thought had been to adjust the drugs to speed up the release of memories. The Biogen was probably just experiencing some intense final emotions. The technician could handle that. He needed to get back to his spells and find a way to break the link between Merlin and the others. 

Aredian was about to hit the intercom to summon the technician. Then he stopped. Calculating, he slowly turned and stared at Biogen-48. This was the first time he had seen such a reading. It was also the first time that a Biogen had gotten close to purity after connecting with Merlin. The two might be connected.

Aredian hesitated for a moment, and then ignoring the pounding in his chest, he placed his hands on the glass. He closed his eyes and entered the mind of Biogen-48. 

Aredian followed the river while bracing for the violent force that would jolt him out of the Biogen’s thoughts. As he moved inward, finally seeing two remaining memories, he looked for the cord. It was there, its hold still strong. Yet, it wasn’t glowing. He tentatively reached out and touched it, expecting to be thrust back. 

Nothing. 

Merlin’s mind was still connected, although his awareness seemed to be elsewhere. Merlin had clearly realized that there was no mind left to communicate with and had left the final memories unguarded. 

Aredian called to the memories as if coaxing two shy children to approach him. As they floated within reach, he touched one and his mind was flooded with a memory of a secret druid sanctuary not far from Camelot.  

When it was over and Aredian had walked away from the totally pure Biogen, there was a triumphant smile on his face. He had found a way to beat Merlin. He could salvage some of the memories. And, it was from those memories that he had collected most of the arsenal of information that he needed.

Since then, Aredian had discovered one other time he could access the minds of the prisoners. It was that brief period before Merlin and the newly captured Biogen had found each other and connected. Aredian would take that opportunity to discover the most recent hiding place of the resistance and any other information he could quickly glean before Merlin blocked him.

Today it was Merlin who would be at the mercy of Aredian’s mind. He left Merlin’s room and ordered all technicians to stay out of the Biogen areas for the rest of the morning. He then made his way to the tank that held the Biogen who had been Merlin’s closest friend. The druid woman was the perfect vessel. With the Quiesamide working its way through Merlin’s system, Aredian would have no problem convincing him that he was the woman.

Aredian placed his hands on the glass, closed his eyes, and entered Freya's mind. 


	8. Chapter 8

Outside Merlin’s room, Gaius slumped in despair against the door. He desperately wanted to go back and stop Aredian’s attack on the vulnerably drugged Merlin. The minister had been right to be suspicious. Only under Aredian's distrustful presence had Gaius administered the Quiesamide.

With the weight of the world on his shoulders, Gaius was at a loss as to how to help Merlin. One thing was for sure, as much as it pained him to leave his friend to Aredian’s torture, he mustn’t be caught waiting in the hall. Reluctantly, he tore himself away. Each step he took intensified the guilt he felt leaving Merlin behind. He could no longer rationalize his complicity in destroying the minds of innocents. It amounted to genocide. The thought stopped Gaius in his tracks. This had to end now. And, the truth was that Gaius would have to be the one to convince Uther to stop these atrocities.

Gaius hurried through the quiet halls of the facility with a determination that he hadn’t felt in a long time. If he was going to save Merlin, he must do this now. Gaius left the Biogen area, silently praying that Merlin’s magic would somehow fight off Aredian.  

Twenty minutes later, Gaius entered the Chancellor’s building. The spacious lobby of steel and glass was teeming with people, many in government uniforms. He sidestepped a group of international tourists who chatted and laughed, oblivious to him and others, as they made their way over to an exhibition of holograms of Albion’s past Chancellors.

He had almost made it to elevator bank when a gruff voice stopped him. “You're not going up there without an appointment.”

Gaius approached the desk where an officious guard glared at him with suspicion. “Please, I need to see Chancellor Pendragon now. It is important!”

“Are you deaf? I said you can't go up without an appointment!”

He tried again. "I am Gaius. I work in the laboratories and I have been a good friend of the Pendragon family for many years. Could you at least contact his assistant to see if I can get an appointment today?"

Unimpressed, the guard responded, “First, yes you _will_ need an appointment. Second, it is the Chancellor’s office that initiates the appointments. And third, he doesn't appreciate surprises, so I advise you to leave before he is alerted to the presence of an unwanted visitor.”

Gaius’s courage began to fail him. If he couldn’t get past the guard, how was he to convince Uther? In his frustration, he raised his voice angrily, “Then could you at least leave a message for--”

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

A young officer stepped between Gaius and the security guard. For a brief moment, the officer’s face seemed to register surprise.

“No sir.” The security guard glared pointedly at Gaius. “He was just leaving. May I help you?”

"Captain Peterson," the officer replied without looking away from Gaius. "I have an appointment with the Chancellor."

Gaius found himself being scrutinized by a pair of serious blue eyes, as the guard searched for Arthur’s name on his computer screen. Gaius stepped back, not wanting to appear as if he was challenging the Captain. Getting shot would not help Merlin.

Finding the appointment, the security guard nodded at the Captain. “Yes, I see you are scheduled for ten o’clock. You may go up.”

The Captain hesitated as if wanting to make sure there would be no trouble. When Gaius moved to leave, Peterson turned and walked away, looking back once before entering the elevator.

Appealing to the security guard was futile. Gaius’s hands were shaking and he felt warm. He made his way over to a lobby chair to rest when he saw the guard stand and approach him menacingly. Wearily, Gaius sighed and stood slowly. The room swam around him as he stumbled to the door. Somehow, he made it outside to a bench in the courtyard. He should be grateful that he hadn’t been questioned. But what now? The vertigo continued. Taking deep breaths, he grasped the edge of the bench with both hands, waiting for the dizziness to subside.

 

****

As he rode the elevator to the top floor, Arthur clenched his fists to keep from hitting the button and returning to the old man in the lobby. His hair was shorter and he looked older and thinner. In fact, he didn’t look well at all. But there was no mistaking Camelot’s royal physician. Of all the familiar faces Arthur had come across, Gaius’s had rekindled feelings of loss more than any of others. Besides Arthur, nobody in Camelot had spent as much time with Merlin than Gaius.

Hell, he mused, it was probably better that he hadn’t had the opportunity to question the man as to whether he knew Merlin. He couldn’t bear the look of bewilderment and shake of the head that always followed this enquiry. Not from Gaius. Also, questioning someone who wore a government tag and claimed to know Chancellor Pendragon was not the best of ideas. No. Arthur needed to focus on his impending meeting with Uther. He couldn’t be late, especially today. The smirk that had accompanied Agravaine’s, “Report immediately to the Chancellor,” was an ominous sign.

Arthur stepped out of the elevator into the waiting room where Uther’s assistant ushered him into the office. “You may go right in, Captain Peterson.”

Uther smiled **,** and greeted him with a casual, friendly tone as he stood up from his desk, “Arthur! Come in. How is the training going?”

In response to Uther’s obvious pleasant mood, Arthur released the breath he was holding, “Very well, Sir. Thank you for asking.”

“I have been keeping an eye on the morning exercises. The colorful shields were a nice addition. The old museum?”

“Yes, sir, we found them in lower levels.”

Uther nodded. “Well, be sure to get all you need. That building will be demolished next month.”

Arthur had heard as much. He was sorry to see the museum go. Many of the artifacts reminded him of his Camelot. At least Uther was allowing him to salvage the weapons.

“And how about archery? Is that something I might get to see the men take on in the future?”

Arthur couldn’t quite suppress a smile. Uther had clearly been reading up on the ancient battles of Albion.

“Sir, I did find some bows. The problem is that the bowstrings are gone and the wood is brittle and easily broken. I’m surprised they lasted this long.”

“Well, perhaps I can help with that. I think we have enough money in the budget to supply you with materials for you to craft more. As long as you don’t mind working with our banal modern materials,” the Chancellor chuckled.

“Not at all, Sir. I know the men would very much appreciate that.”

There was an awkward few minutes where Uther seemed to collect his thoughts. Finally, he cleared his throat and his voice took on a serious tone. “Captain, I have a job for you and your men outside of Camelot.”

Arthur certainly was grateful for any opportunity to get out of the city, although he was curious that the order was coming directly from Uther and not Marshall Agravaine. Was Agravaine being kept in the dark about a mission?

“At some point, Minister Aredian will be making a trip to search for ancient artifacts. These artifacts have…well...magical qualities and he will be returning them to Camelot to be destroyed.”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. This reminded him of the kind of orders that had created tension between he and his father. As much as he understood the King’s fear of magic, innocents had been hurt—often killed—by his obsession. Arthur hoped that the familiar connection he was starting to feel with this Uther wouldn’t mirror the adversarial relationship he had with his father. Unfortunately, where magic was concerned, the Chancellor’s beliefs were just as rigid. Over the past three years, Arthur had often feared that Merlin’s disappearance was somehow connected to the Chancellor’s anti-magic laws. He hoped that someday he would be in a position to convince Uther that not all magic users were evil.

Uther continued, “I would like your team to accompany Aredian and help him with whatever he needs."

“Yes, Sir.”

“Arthur, it is important that you stay close to Aredian. Let your men handle any work required. You must not leave the minister’s side.”

Uther must have sensed Arthur’s curiosity at being asked to watch one of Uther’s advisors, because he went on to explain, “Many of these artifacts have powerful properties and could enchant him. We want to protect the minister from unwittingly falling under a spell.” He paused and then said, almost as if annoyed, “If the minister questions you--which he should not--remind him you are under my direct orders to keep him safe.”

Arthur nodded, suspecting there was more to this story. But questioning Uther at this point would be unwise.

“I expect to see you immediately after each mission. They are classified and not to be included in your daily reports.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“That will be all, Captain.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As Arthur opened the door to leave, Uther added, “Oh, and I look forward to seeing those archery competitions.”

On the ride down in the elevator, Arthur reviewed the meeting in his head. The order to accompany the minister on his next search could come through at any time. He would have to alert his men that they would need to be ready to report to duty at any given moment.

Arthur stepped out into the lobby, brow furrowed in concentration. What was Uther up to, and why didn’t he trust his minister? Or Agravaine, for that matter? Arthur knew very little about Aredian. He had only seen him a few times and his only memories were those of a man who lived over a thousand years ago--an evil witchfinder who had almost succeeded in having Gaius executed for wizardry. Perhaps he would get a few clues to Aredian’s intentions while they were out searching for the artifacts.   

Once outside, Arthur briskly walked towards the Guards’ offices three blocks away. As he hurried across the courtyard, he saw a familiar figure sitting, bent over on a bench. He changed direction and approached the old man.

“Gaius? Gaius, are you all right?”

Gaius jumped at Arthur’s voice. He looked disoriented and said shakily, “Yes, I am fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

Arthur reached for Gaius’s arm to help him sit up. Gaius pulled away. “No please, I just need a moment. I will be okay.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I can take you to a Medrest, if you like.”

“Please don’t. I don’t need medical attention. Please! Don’t report me.”

Gaius was clearly frightened. Trying not upset him any more than he already was, Arthur sat down next to him and spoke quietly. “I promise I am not going to report you. I just want to make sure you are all right.”

Gaius looked at him warily. “If I go to a Medrest, they will have to notify my department. The man I work for would be happy for any reason to retire me and that would be enough of an excuse.”

Arthur sighed and looked out across the courtyard. The area was filling up with hungry government employees heading to an early lunch. He really should get back to his office, but right now, he was more concerned about Gaius. This may not be his Gaius, but it felt like him, and he would never leave his and Merlin’s friend in distress.

“I tell you what…my place is only a couple of blocks from here. Why don’t you come back there with me. That way, you won’t be caught by anyone you know and you can rest for a bit without being reported.”

Gaius’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Then he glanced around nervously, as if fearing that they were being watched. Arthur flashed a warm, disarming smile that seemed to convince Gaius to let Arthur help him.

By the time they reached Arthur’s flat, Gaius was struggling to walk. Arthur guided the trembling man to the kitchen table and held his arm, steadying him as he sat down. Then Arthur hurried to the kitchen to get water for both of them. When he returned, the old man was leaning over the table, his head resting on folded arms. He remained like that for so long, Arthur worried Gaius might have passed out. But then with a soft moan, Gaius lifted his head and gratefully accepted the glass Arthur held out for him. They both drank and then uncomfortably, stared down into their glasses.

Gaius was the first to break the silence, “How do you know my name?”

“I overheard you tell the security guard.”

Gaius nodded, “But, but, why would you would help me?”

Arthur looked at Gaius in surprise. “Why wouldn’t I? You were obviously in distress.”

“Because I’ve never known a captain of the Armed Guard to go out of his way to help anyone.”

“Well, I guess I am not like other captains.”

“That much, my boy, is clear.”

“Gaius, I want to apologize to you for the Guard. I’m ashamed the men do not behave more honorably.”  

Gaius looked curiously at Arthur. He then set the glass down and with a sparkle in his eyes said, “Now, if you would be so kind to bring me some clean cups and hot water, I think I can offer you something a little more palatable than this muck.”

Arthur grinned and returned to the kitchen, “I thought I was the only one who hated this crap. Can’t stand any of the food either, if you can call it that.”

Gaius reached into his pocket and pulled out two small packets. “We agree on that. It is quite appalling." He was silent for a moment and then asked, "You are not from here, are you?”

Arthur grabbed two more cups from the cabinet and poured boiling water into them. “I have only been here three years.”

“Ah, that makes sense, then. I have lived near or in Camelot most of my life, but my parents rejected any modern conveniences and there was always real food on the table. Even when I was a physician in the city, I received fresh fruits, vegetables, and homemade breads and soups from my patients who grew their food in gardens outside of the city.”

Arthur returned with a tray that he set on the table.

Gaius smiled in appreciation and dropped a small bag of herbs into each cup. “Luckily you have not had to endure Camelot’s less-than-palatable nutrition for your entire life. But as you have discovered, it is difficult to adjust when you have tasted real food. Most people in Camelot have never enjoyed a delicious home-cooked meal. I’m sure if they had, Camelot’s nutrition distributors would have quite a rebellion on their hands,” Gaius said with a wink and smile in his voice.

Sitting down at the table, Arthur laughed, “I would gladly lead the charge on that rebellion.” He liked this Gaius. Underneath the fear and sadness, there was a kind man. “I didn’t know there were any gardens in Albion.”

“Sadly, most have been destroyed. But, there are still a few hidden corners in the city where nature hasn’t given up on us. When I find plants growing in those spots, I harvest them for teas and medicinal purposes.”

The fragrant, familiar scent wafting up from the steeping tea transported Arthur back a thousand years to a physician’s cozy chamber where dried herbs hung from the ceiling, books lay haphazardly on every flat surface, stew simmered over a fire, and a young sorcerer worked on his healing skills while his mentor stood by him with alternating looks of frustration and pride. For a brief moment, it was as if Arthur were home again.

Arthur forced back the knot of homesickness that blossomed in his chest and travelled up to his throat, making it difficult to speak.

Gaius retrieved a small glass container from his pocket. He tipped several drops into his tea and slipped it back into his clothing.

He responded to Arthur's questioning look, “A calming tincture."

After a few moments, Gaius removed the bags from the cups. “Go ahead…try it.”

Arthur tasted the brew. A mixture of lemon balm, lavender, and a subtle sweetness soothed his throat. The effect was calming. He closed his eyes, savoring another sip. “Gaius, this is delicious. Thank you.”

Arthur placed the cup on the table. He looked directly into the old man’s weary eyes. “Now, tell me, why were you trying to see Uther?”

The gained trust was immediately replaced with a frisson of tension. Gaius visibly shut down as he turned away from Arthur to stare out the window. “I…”

“Please, Gaius. You have my word that whatever you say will not go beyond these walls.”

Gaius rubbed his face. “It was nothing, really. I work for Uther as a technician. I was there to tell him about some problems we’re having in the laboratory. I just…I just…”

“You just what?” Arthur coaxed.

“Nothing. I just had forgotten to make an appointment.”

“That’s all? There must be something more. You were pretty upset.”

Gaius just nodded. The tea and whatever he had added to it had put some color in his cheeks, and it appeared he had gained a bit of strength back. But this kind of questioning wasn’t helping. Arthur didn’t want to push, but Gaius clearly was in need of a friend.

Arthur traced the edge of the cup of with his thumb, searching for something to say that would encourage Gaius to open up to him. However, what came out of Arthur's mouth next did anything but. “I was wondering if you might have ever heard of a man by the name of Merlin.”

Gaius’s body jerked, spilling tea on to the table. He put the cup down, clearly trying to mask his emotions. Instead, his eyes filled with tears.

Arthur ignored the spilled tea. “Gaius, you know him!”

“No.”

“Yes, yes! You know Merlin. Gaius! Please!”

Gaius’s voice turned from sorrow to anger. “What is this? Did Aredian order you to follow me?”

“Aredian? No. Why would—?”

“Look, I don’t care what happens to me. I just need to convince Uther that…” Gaius stood. “Tell Aredian he can do whatever he wants with me after I have meet with the Chancellor.” With that, the conversation was over and Gaius started for the door.  

Arthur panicked. Gaius wasn’t making sense and now he was about to walk out. Arthur didn’t know what to do...how to stop him from leaving.

Throwing all caution to the wind he choked out, “Merlin is my friend.”

Gaius froze.

Arthur’s com beeped. He took it out of his pocket and glanced at the display.

_Uther. Fuck!_

He answered the com, “Peterson.”

“Arthur, I need you and your team ready to go within the hour.”

 

****

Aredian placed his hands on the tank. He took three deep breaths, steadied himself, then closed his eyes and pushed his consciousness to the edge of Freya’s mind. There was barely anything left of her to communicate with. Instead he would have to reach out to her very essence...her soul, perhaps. It was to this final remnant of the Biogen who had once been Freya that he must appeal.

_Hello, dear. I am a friend. Would you let me in?_

She pulled back in fear and a door closed in her mind. Aredian tapped gently, communicating with her all the while.

_I am sorry this has happened to you and your friends. I promise there will be no more pain. I am here to free you._

No response.

He continued to coax her with kind words and promises to help until he found the key.

_Merlin wants me to take care of you. He wants me to help you._

The door swung open at last, releasing a soft sigh of acceptance. Aredian stepped in and was greeted by the same cold empty feeling he experienced whenever he entered the nearly purified minds of the Biogen. Bits of disjointed memories floated about—pieces of a puzzle unable to connect to form coherent thoughts.

For now, he disregarded the thoughts and approached Freya’s bond with Merlin. The golden thread held firm to Freya as it did to all the other druids and sorcerers, but again it was not glowing.

Aredian touched the cord. On the other end Merlin had surrounded himself within a protective circle that appeared as a forest, thick with growth. Normally Aredian could only get a sense of Merlin through the trees. He had rarely seen him, but most recently had heard him talking to himself, as he was now. No, not to himself. To some unseen phantom in Merlin’s mind.

If the hallucinogen had done its job, Aredian should now be able to communicate as Freya with Merlin. If it didn’t work, Aredian would be at a loss as to how to control Merlin. Aredian drew Freya’s essence around him like a cloak, and the masquerade began as he listened in to Merlin’s side of the conversation looking for a moment when he could interrupt.

 **_Noooo_ ** _, we definitely wouldn't have gotten away if it weren't for me._

There was a pause.

 _Ha!_ **_That’s_ ** _what you remember? You and Gwaine didn’t even see the second bandit in the bushes. There is no way you would have---_

 _Merlin? Merlin! It's Freya._ Aredian’s patience had worn out and he wanted to get on with it.

Merlin's chatter stuttered to a stop and Aredian could sense his confusion.

 

****

Merlin heard a voice. He had beeom falling. “What is it?’n feeling dizzy as he argued with Arthur, but now his world began to blur. Arthur was going in and out of focus. The cave wavered in front of him and thetrees trees rippled and swayed back and forth. The stars above flickered as if their hold in the sky had been weakened. This couldn’t be the bliss. He had not released any memories.

Arthur grasped Merlin’s shoulders to keep him from falling. “What is it?’

“I don’t know…” Unable to focus, Merlin was slurring his words.

Abruptly, Arthur released him and reached for his sword. His look of concern for Merlin changed to one of wariness and he stood tense and ready. He whispered urgently, “Someone is coming. Get to the cave.”

Instead, Merlin collapsed on the ground. He forced himself to raise his head and squinted as he tried to see Arthur through a haze that was spreading throughout the clearing, obscuring his vision. Arthur had stepped between him and some unseen threat, and Merlin struggled to see what it was. If there was danger, it was Arthur who needed protection, not Merlin. Perhaps it was someone coming to steal his memories of Arthur! He panicked. Merlin’s first instinct was to release Arthur to the stars, where Kilgharrah would keep him safe.  

No, no...he wouldn’t let go of Arthur. He couldn’t bear the thought of it.

Arthur took another step towards the forest, his sword raised and ready for battle. “Merlin, I said get to the cave,” he commanded.

“No.”

“This time, you will obey your king.”

Gathering his strength, Merlin sat up. His head lolled to the side, but he unsteadily raised his hand. The magic tingling at the tips of his fingers felt odd and somehow unreliable, like his surroundings. But he pushed it towards its target regardless. “No Arthur, this time you will obey me.”

Arthur spun around in annoyed surprise. “Merlin!”  

It was too late. Merlin’s magic encircled Arthur, gently lifting him and transporting him to the cave. The look...Oh **that** look on Arthur’s face...If they survived this, Merlin was in for days of disgruntled kingly lectures.

Merlin tried to stand, but ended up crawling to the edge of the clearing. The trees continued to undulate before him.

_Merlin? What’s happening? Where are you?_

Merlin shook his head, trying to focus on the familiar female voice.

_Please, Merlin...I need you._

_Freya?….How?…I don’t understand._

_I don’t either.  Something must have happened to their technology. I can feel myself returning. But I don’t think I have long._

Merlin tried to make sense of what was happening, but his mind was thick with confusion.

_Please, Merlin. I don’t have much time. I think there is a way to bring us all back._

A spark of hope flickered within him. _Tell me._

_We’ll need you to release our connection for a few days._

_We?_

_“All of the us...your friends, Merlin. I think you can help us all return.”_

He wanted to reach out through the many threads connecting him to them and see if it were true, but his mind and magic wouldn’t obey. _No. No. I can’t let go. If something were to happen to you, I would have no way of knowing._

_Yes, Merlin. Just for a few days. There is someone who will help us escape. When we are all out, I will contact you._

This was too much to comprehend. _Freya, who is it? How can you…? We won’t be able to communicate once you are outside of the building._

_But we can. We have a way. I promise. By the time I contact you, the building will no longer be a barrier._

_Freya,_ **_who_ ** _is helping you?_

_I can’t say, just yet. Please, if you trust me, you will help. Once out we will need you to connect with all of us. Most of us will be far away. Do you think you can do that?_

Merlin had to trust her. He was too weak to argue. _Yes, yes. That shouldn’t be a problem._

_Good, Merlin. Now, there is one more thing you must do._

Merlin did not answer. Freya’s words were swimming in his head and he was having a difficult time grasping their meaning.

_Merlin? Merlin! You must focus. Are you with me?_

_Yes, I’m here._

_To ensure our safety, we are going to need your magic to ignite our own power._

_Yes, Merlin ignite them all._

Merlin felt as if he were hearing two voices overlapping.

_What is happening? Freya, who is with you?_

For a moment there was no response. Then, _It’s just me. Are you okay, Merlin?_

Merlin relaxed. _I am. I’m just concerned for you._

_Don’t be. You are going to save us. Do you think you can do that? Do you think your power is strong enough? We need you to send it through all of us._

_I think so._ But he wasn’t sure he could do it. It had been a long time since he had used his magic in the outside world and right now it was shifting oddly and felt unwieldy. Perhaps he should test it out. _Shall I try it now?_

_No!!...No, not yet. I will let you know._

_Freya, thank gods you are back. Do you think you can escape soon? I feel strange and don’t know how much longer I have._

_I do, Merlin, I really do. Just stay strong. Goodbye for now._

There was a pause.

_I love you, Merlin._

_I love you too, Freya._

Merlin was charged with excitement, but looked back at the cave with nervous guilt. He didn’t go to Arthur right away. Hopefully, he would understand. Perhaps it was best to let him cool down while Merlin worked out what had just happened. He was exhausted and the forest was spinning around him. Maybe he would just take a short nap.

Merlin let his body fall back, and sleep take him. The last thing he saw as he closed his eyes was a distressed Arthur standing at the entrance to the cave.

 

****

Aredian released the cord. His mind was weary from communicating with Merlin. He cursed himself at his slip. That unintentional dig about igniting the druids had almost cost him Merlin’s trust. How stupid! Regardless, his plan to trick Merlin had been a success. Uther would be pleased.

As he made his way back through the darkness of Freya’s mind, a flash of metal glimmered from the depths of her subconscious...reminding him of his other mission. In his excitement, he had almost forgotten to look for salvageable memories.

Aredian ignored his exhaustion and looked deeply into the woman’s mind. Except for the brief glint of silver, it was almost hidden from sight, which meant even Freya had probably not been conscious of this one. He concentrated, and the memory began to form. It took all his focus to extract it. Suddenly it was there in his hand. Even as a thought, its power was overwhelming.  

Before him was the knowledge of a sacred artifact that had been forged by the breath of a dragon. A sword. Excalibur.

As he gripped it with both hands, and held then held it above his head, memories surged through Aredian. He found himself standing on the banks of a lake--a lake he had seen many times. In fact, it was one of the few natural lakes still left in Albion--the others having been abandoned by the water spirits and now a part of the wasteland.

He stepped forward and the water rose up around him, until he was sinking into the lake’s cool, dark depths—dark until he saw a light from the bottom where the sword lay waiting. Waiting for him.

The famous legend had been passed down through generations of druids and sorcerers. Excalibur had belonged to a king who died in a great battle. The lake had taken his powerful sword and kept it safe. No wonder this body of water had not been engulfed by the wasteland. The sword protected it--the same sword that would only appear to Albon’s future king. Secreted away until…until...Aredian realized with shock that this was the sign. It was he who was meant to rule.

Aredian roared with triumph as the watery world slipped away. He snapped back into his body and woke on the floor of the Biogen room, shaking with exhaustion and excitement. He need search no further and had no more use for Merlin or the other Biogen. Aredian now had all the power and knowledge he desired. Once he had Excalibur, nothing would stop him.

  



	9. Chapter 9

The transport left the bustle of the city behind and entered the silent wasteland. The sunlight flashing off one of the tall steel and glass buildings and reflected off the rearview mirror, briefly blinded Leon who slammed on the brakes. Aredian grunted, cursed and proceeded to bark directions in Leon's ear. Arthur, sitting five seats back next to Lance, glanced at the minister sharply.

Until today, he had only seen Aredian in the hallways of the government center and had made a point of avoiding him. Every memory Arthur had of the Aredian in his Camelot gave him the chills. The Witchfinder, they’d called him. He’d almost convinced his father to have Gaius executed as a sorcerer. And he wouldn’t have stopped there. Who knew how many other innocents might have died had Aredian’s deception not been discovered.

All Arthur knew about the present Aredian was that he advised Uther on matters pertaining to magic. After Arthur’s meeting with the Chancellor, he also suspected, and was somewhat relieved, that this Uther wasn’t quite as gullible as his father had been. Gaius certainly didn’t seem to trust Aredian, either. No doubt this incarnation of the man was capable of as much treachery, if not more.

Arthur had hoped to have the opportunity to talk with the minister to get a better sense of today’s mission and a clue into his relationship with Uther. However, Aredian’s only response when Arthur approached him that morning had been an irritated look and a curt, “Make sure you and your men stay out of my way and do exactly as I say.” He’d strode off in the direction of the transport before Arthur could question him.

The landscape of stones and dirt passed by in a blur. The inside of the transport mirrored the stillness outside as Arthur’s men sat in unusual silence, perhaps sensing Arthur’s mood. Stomach in knots, his hand gripped the armrest so hard his knuckles were white with tension as he grappled with two problems at once. He was uneasy about what they may encounter ahead and worried about the man he had left back in his flat.

Arthur’s thoughts bounced back and forth between his struggle to ensure his team’s safety and his search for Merlin. Regarding the former, there wasn’t a lot he could do. He had no information on what kind of danger to expect from this magical artifact, nor from Aredian. As for Gaius, Arthur hoped it was just a matter of getting the old man to trust him enough to open up about Merlin. Arthur needed more time with Gaius for that to happen. Then again, he wouldn’t find out anything if Gaius wasn’t there when he returned.

Arthur Pendragon did not like feeling out of control. So, he spent much of the ride reflecting on his conversation with Gaius for any clue that could lead him to Merlin.

It was clear that Gaius knew who Merlin was by the way he had fallen apart when Merlin’s name was mentioned. Gaius worked in the laboratories. Had Merlin worked there, too? What kind of projects were being developed in the restricted rooms below the city? Was Merlin a part of that? Or, had Gaius known him outside of work? Why was Gaius so afraid to answer Arthur’s questions? It all came back to Aredian and Uther--the two people who would most want to harm Merlin if his powers were discovered.  

Arthur shook his head. This was getting him nowhere. His best hope now was getting back to his flat and confronting Gaius. That's if Gaus kept his promise to wait for Arthur who’d certainly done everything he could think of, besides tying the old man to a chair, to keep him there. Although he was feeling pangs of guilt having resorted to blackmail.

Threatening to order an official job history report on a government employee wouldn’t normally cause problems. It was done all the time. But if Aredian already had it out for Gaius, it would raise a red flag and make matters worse. Of course, Gaius had no idea that Arthur would never put the request in. But Arthur needed him to believe it, for now. Still, Arthur wasn’t sure that was enough to keep Gaius from leaving. So for good measure Arthur had quickly come up with a plan B and asked Gwen to check on Gaius which then meant an interrogation from the always concerned and curious Guinevere.

“Arthur, who is he?”

“He’s a kind old man who needs help. Please, just stop by my place. Make sure he’s okay and see if he needs anything.” Arthur quickly added, “And, don’t forget to remind him that he promised to stay until I return.”

“Arthur-“

“Please, Gwen. Do this for me.”

There was silence and Arthur could sense Gwen weighing the need to ask more questions with that of wanting to appease her friend.

Finally, Gwen sighed. “Okay. I’ll go over after work.”

“Thank you. This means a lot to me.”

That was all he could do about Gaius, for now. The headache that lay ahead was another matter. Arthur couldn’t stop worrying about the manipulative Aredian who would take advantage of people’s fears. And what lengths would the minister go to if Arthur, even under Uther’s orders, were to disobey him? Arthur’s men had been taught to be ready for any kind of assault, but he wasn’t sure they could hold their own against Aredian’s kind of trickery. Or, perhaps it would be more insidious. With a few lies in his report to Uther, Aredian might convince the Chancellor to dismantle the team.  

Lance startled Arthur when he whispered in his ear, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he lied, but relaxed a little as he was reminded that Lance was there to support him. The whole team was. He was grateful for their presence.

As soon as Arthur had received the orders to accompany Aredian, he had contacted all of his men. Each and every one of them had shown up within the hour, ready to work. He was proud of his team. Had they been any other guards, Arthur would have had to deal with late arrivals and grumbles of low wages. But there they were, standing at attention, eyes straight ahead, and awaiting his orders. Though these men may have had no knowledge of their counterparts from over a thousand years ago, there was no denying that they were his knights.

Once Uther had offered to let him choose his own men, it had taken three months to put his team together. Elyan and Lance had already joined the Armed Guard of their own accord. Elyan signed on mainly because of his friendship with Arthur, and perhaps due to a little nudging from Gwen who had wanted him to keep an eye on Arthur. Back then, she still had worried that Arthur might have trouble fitting in and draw unwanted attention to himself.

Arthur had searched out Owain first. He was one person who Arthur knew for a fact was in Camelot. He had found him working at a Medrest on the South side of Camelot. Luckily, the man did not remember him from their awkward encounter on Arthur’s first day in the city. It also helped that Owain had once worked alongside Lance at the medical facility. Between Lance and Arthur, they convinced Owain that he would much rather be a member of the Armed Guard.

Leon hadn’t been difficult to find. Not long after Owain was recruited, Leon had been assigned to the government cafeteria food line. Arthur wasted no time in trying to get to know him, and chatted to him every day as Leon grimly spooned out the cafeteria’s tasteless fare. At first, the only response to Arthur’s attempts at conversation was a grunt or two and gestures for Arthur to move along in the line. As time went on, grunts turned to odd looks and an occasional nod at Arthur’s ridiculous attempts at humor. Arthur thought he might be making some leeway when the portion sizes of his meal began to increase.

One day, Arthur had looked down upon the mountain of food that had been dumped on his plate and said to Leon, “My jokes must really be bad for this kind of torture.”

Leon snorted with amusement, “With your sense of humor, if you can call it that, you should be more worried about being poisoned than tortured.”

“Poison? I don’t know, I would think a sword would be more your style. How would you like to find out?”

Leon raised his eyebrows and sized Arthur up as if he were seeing him for the first time. “You’re with that group of Armed Guards who do those weird drills.”

“I am.”

Leon nodded, “In that case, I think I would like to find out.”

As soon as he returned from lunch, Arthur sent the transfer order to Leon’s boss. The next morning, a grinning Leon reported early for duty.

Then there was Gwaine. Arthur hadn’t had to go looking for him. Well, at least not at first. He just had appeared at morning drills one day. With a twinkle in his eye, Gwaine had proceeded to entertain the spectators with crude comments about the men's skills, sending ripples of uncomfortable giggles throughout the crowd. Gwaine, who had seemed inebriated, had stumbled away before Arthur could get to him. Liquor was outlawed. Where would he have gotten it in Camelot? Arthur shook his head. He didn’t even want to guess.

Only Gwaine.  

A week later he again showed up at morning drills. This time he was more raucous and his heckling reached more ears. It wasn’t long before Elyan and Owain were returning insult for insult.

“Cut the banter.” Arthur ordered his men as he headed over to Gwaine. But the man laughed and disappeared into the crowd.

Arthur sighed, figuring Gwaine would return in a day or so. When he didn’t, Arthur headed over to the public registry office and had searched for his name in the work directories. Nothing. Perhaps he had just been wandering through the area. That would be like Gwaine. Never stopping in one place for very long. Arthur regretted not chasing after him the first day he saw him.

Later that week, Arthur had made his routine trip to the prison to check for newly incarcerated prisoners on the roster. After three years, he no expectation that Merlin's name would show up, but he continued to go. It was a routine he kept to prove he had not given up hope on finding his friend.

Arthur entered the guard’s office. At the back of the small room was a secured door that opened to a hall leading to the prison cells. He had never been beyond that door and often wondered about the world of the prisoners on the other side. Were they treated well, or was it a brutal existence? The rules of this society were rigid. Arthur tried not to think about the kinds of punishments for breaking Albion’s laws. Had Merlin broken one of those laws?

Expecting to see the familiar disinterested face of the guard who had greeted him for the past three years, Arthur had been surprised to find another familiar face instead. This man had looked just as bored and completely out of place as he had shifted his large body trying to adjust to a desk that was dwarfed by his size.

Percival.

Arthur steadied his voice to hide his excitement. “Arthur Peterson. I’m here to see the prison roster.”

Percival had looked down at the screen on his desk, found Arthur’s name, and nodded. He then proceeded to mumble curses as his large fingers fumbled at hitting the correct keys on his keyboard. He finally typed in the code, sending the information to Arthur's com.

The roster was the only evidence that the public had of those incarcerated in Albion’s high security prison. Once criminals entered the prison walls they were not allowed any type of communication with those on the outside. They were lost to loved ones until their release, if they were released. However, by filing a request, anyone in Albion could gain access to the list of Camelot’s prisoners. Over a hundred and fifty times Arthur had come to the prison and checked the roster with both dread and hope. Whether his hope was to find Merlin listed or not was a debate he often had with himself.

As he scanned the list that day, he came across another name.

Gwaine Greene

Not the least bit surprised, Arthur had wondered what crime his errant knight had committed and how he would get him out. This would require another meeting with Uther.

Arthur had turned to Percival who futilely had been to trying adjust himself to fit the small desk.

“Looks like you need a bigger desk.”

Percival had glared at him. He never was very talkative.

Arthur tried to nudge Percival into conversation. “You seem more like an outdoor kind of guy.”

Percival sat up straight in what appeared to be an attempt to look more dignified.

Wasn’t working.

Arthur smirked, “So...how would you like a job with the Armed Guard.”

Percy’s eyes lit up. “Gods, yes!”

Arthur nodded.  “Done.”

It had taken two months to get Gwaine's three-year prison sentence on a public nuisance charge commuted. Arthur had been surprised to find that when Gwaine slipped away that day, he had walked straight into another group of Armed Guards who had been taking a less than humorous interest in his antics. Arthur had convinced Uther that since the offense had been against Arthur and his men, he would like the opportunity to dole out a much more fitting punishment, and at the same time benefit from having a rugged sort like Gwaine on the team. Uther only granted release if Arthur promised to make Gwaine’s time with the Armed Guard miserable. For once, Arthur had been more than amenable to the terms. Even then, Uther had been unwilling to release him immediately, instead ordering Gwaine to serve two months of hard labor.

Gwaine’s look of confusion as he stepped out the door of the prison and onto the street had told Arthur that Gwaine had probably not been privy to the change in his sentence. He had glanced nervously around as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. A shoe which came in the form of Captain Arthur Peterson. Gwaine's eyes narrowed suspiciously at the Captain, clearly trying to decide whether to run or face his inevitable future. Arthur approached with determination.

Captain of the Guard or not, Gwaine was not one to be intimidated. “What the fuck do you want?”

Arthur hid his amusement behind a steely look, “I want you to join my team.”

“Why would I want to work for the man who had me arrested?”

Arthur frowned. “That wasn’t me. I had nothing to do with your arrest. I didn't even know you had been arrested until I saw your name on the prison roster."

"Bullshit." But Gwaine seemed to be carefully weighing Arthur's words as if trying to decide if he could trust him. “Okay, even if you didn’t, why would I want to work for you?”

Arthur had glanced behind Gwaine at the guard that stood watching them outside the prison door. “Because if you don’t, that man will be escorting you back to prison to serve three years hard labor.”

Gwaine’s eyebrows had shot up and he casually said, “So, that’s what that asshole judge gave me.”

Arthur couldn’t believe that the prisoners were not told of their own sentence times. It must have driven them insane not to have some idea when they would be released. Perhaps that was the whole point.

Arthur hadn’t responded to Gwaine’s comment. Instead, he got right to the terms. “It won’t be fun. You will be expected to work harder than the others in lieu of incarceration. But, I will be fair and treat you with the same amount of respect accorded to the other team members.”

Just as Gwaine had been about to respond, Arthur raised a finger in his face. “Say yes and you are in. But I swear, cause any trouble for me and the team, and you go back to prison.”

Gwaine had looked around, clearly considering his options. And then he grinned and said, “Okay…Boss--” Then upon seeing Arthur’s frown, he quickly corrected himself, “I mean, Captain, Sir. I’d be happy to come and show your men how it’s done.”

“Oh you will be doing a lot of things, but showing my men ‘how it is done’ is not one of them. Follow me.”

Gwaine stepped in behind Arthur, but not before he had the last word. “We will see...Sir.”

Arthur didn’t respond. He was too busy trying not to laugh.  

Gwaine, being Gwaine, had not always been easy to deal with. And, he never shut up--proving some things never change. But, in the end, he had come through for the team and his Captain. Arthur was as proud of Gwaine has he was of any of his other men.

Today they faced an old adversary, even though Arthur was the only one aware of it. Before leaving Camelot, he had spoken to the men while Aredian had been across the street giving orders to his secretary. Standing near the transport, he’d kept his voice low. “We’ve been tasked with accompanying Minister Aredian on his search for an artifact. I want you on alert. Even though it may not seem like a perilous mission, I assure you there is the risk of danger. I will be staying close to Aredian. If he gives you any direct orders, you are to wait for my nod before you proceed. If I shake my head no, then you are to wait for my command.”

It was an unusual order, but Arthur trusted his men to obey. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir,” they had responded in unison. He had seen in their eyes that they were with him and would have his back. Arthur had breathed a sigh of relief.

Now as they rode closer to their destination, Arthur surveyed the land. He was disheartened to see even fewer trees than the last time he had left Camelot. Nature had surrendered to the barren lands. But, though all the familiar landmarks were gone, he didn’t need them. As the transport made its way through the wasteland, Arthur began to suspect where they might be heading. His uneasiness was confirmed when the lake appeared in the distance. Avalon remained hidden, but he knew it was there. Would it reveal itself to Aredian? Even more concerning, would Arthur’s presence cause it to appear?

When they arrived at the lake, the men silently vacated the transport and stood at attention a short distance from the shore. Ignoring them, Aredian paced back and forth at the water’s edge and began reciting a series of unintelligible words. Arthur had been warned by Uther not to be alarmed at Aredian’s attempts to obtain the artifact, as it was just anti-magic protection. But this anti-magic protection sure as hell sounded a lot like the casting of a spell.

For the better part of the afternoon, Aredian addressed the lake in an archaic language, peppered with a growing amount of expletives. Every so often, Arthur would glance over at his men who weren’t used to standing idle for long periods of time. Their eyes begged him for something to keep them busy. Lance finally approached Arthur and asked if there was anything the men could do. Arthur apologetically shook his head no and heard frustrated groans from the team.

Arthur himself was tiring. His thoughts kept returning to his flat and he wondered how long his threat would hold Gaius to his promise. He glanced nervously at the center of the lake, dreading any signs that the island might reappear. The last thing he needed was to be associated with some magical place or its artifacts. Although, he couldn’t remember anything specific there that would connect him to Avalon.

The sun was setting. Aredian’s voice, hoarse with exhaustion, called out over the lake once more. He then paced back and forth as if trying to decide whether to go on. Decision made, he leaned down, grasped a handful of rocks, and flung them into the lake with a bellow. Aredian then stormed by the men, ordering them to board the transport.

All eyes turned to Arthur. He nodded. Grateful, they stiffly climbed back onto the vehicle.

Once back in Camelot, Aredian stepped out of the transport and said tersely, “We will be heading out again first thing in the morning.”  

His words seemed to address no one in particular and he made no effort to acknowledge the men for their service. With no specific meeting time to go by, Arthur was left to guess as he wouldn’t put it past the minister to leave without them. This meant gathering the men together well before dawn. There would be no exercises tomorrow. They would not be happy, but he had no time to worry about that now.

Arthur hurried back home. Outside the door to his flat, he was greeted by the scent of one of Gwen’s meals. Arthur relaxed. She had made it and was cooking dinner for Gaius. Everything would be okay. But when he stepped inside, Gwen’s agitated stance and guilty look told him otherwise.

“Gwen, where’s Gaius?”

“I’m sorry, Arthur. He wasn’t in the flat when I arrived. It was my fault. I tried to get here as soon as possible, but they kept me late at work.”

Arthur slammed the door shut behind him. “Damnit.” He rubbed his face, trying to hold back his frustration and not doing a very good job of it.

“I’m really sorry, Arthur.” She apologetically held up a plate of food. “I made dinner hoping he had just stepped out and would return.”

“Gwen, it isn’t your fault.” Arthur hurried through his flat, surveying each room, hoping Gaius had left something behind...a note...an item that would lead Arthur to him. But he knew now that Gaius had never planned to help Arthur. “Gwen, he probably left long before you got here.”

There was a pause, then Gwen placed the plate of food down on the table. “Why don’t you at least sit down and eat. You look exhausted.”

Arthur slumped down at the table, but pushed the plate aside. With a defeated look, he ran his fingers through his hair, rumpling and spiking it in different directions.

Gwen asked gently, “Who is he?”

Arthur shook his head and sighed, “I told you.”

“All you said was that he was a sick old man who you found at the government center. Why didn’t you just take him to a Medrest?”

“Because I think he might know where Merlin is.”

Gwen reached over and squeezed Arthur’s shoulder, “Really? Arthur, that would be wonderful. I’m sure we can find him again. How does he know your friend?”

“I asked him if he knew Merlin and he acted as if he did.”

Gwen sighed and her hand dropped. “Oh Arthur, did you ever think that he just told you what you wanted to hear so he could take advantage of you?”

“No, Gwen. It wasn’t like that. But it doesn’t really matter anymore. He clearly doesn’t want to help me.”

There was an uncomfortable silence and Arthur could feel Gwen’s sympathetic eyes on him. He couldn’t stand her feeling sorry for him. He just wanted to be alone.  “Anyway, thanks for coming over. I owe you one.”

Gwen bent down in front of Arthur and took his hand in hers. She gently asked, “Don’t you think it might be time to let Merlin go?”

Arthur tensed and tried to pull away, but Gwen held fast and he found himself on the receiving end of one of Gwen’s maternal lectures as she reached up to smooth his hair. “Listen to me. You’ve been looking for Merlin for three years. If he were in Albion, don’t you think you would have found him by now?”

Arthur smiled weakly at Gwen. Always so kind and caring. “Maybe…I don’t know. All I know is that there was a time when Merlin didn't give up on me. I think I owe him the same.”

Gwen nodded and stood up, “You know I will help in whatever way I can, but I hate to see you torturing yourself. Even if you aren’t going to move on, maybe you could at least give yourself a little break from this. If you are meant to see him again, you will.”

Arthur stood up and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, Gwen. You are a good friend. I will be fine.”

He responded to her look of doubt, “I promise. Once I get some sleep I will feel better.” He gave her a somewhat convincing smile. “And we’ll get together soon--you, me, and Elyan. Okay?”

She nodded, “We’d better,” she grinned. “You, my dear, dear friend, are becoming way too serious. You need your friends to cheer you up.”

Arthur placed a kiss on Gwen's forehead and sent her on her way. He shut the door and stood alone and lost in the quiet of his flat.

Now what?

  



	10. Chapter 10

Sorcerer and king were at an impasse. Merlin paced from the cave to the woods and back, while Arthur looked on. This had been going on so long that he had worn a path in the grass. Every so often, he shot a resentful glare at Arthur as he stomped past him. Arthur stood guard, with a severe frown on his face, one eye on Merlin and the other on the forest. He was prepared to hold off any monsters intent on breaching Merlin’s world. Although right now, the fight was within the clearing.

The bewildering dizziness from earlier that had caused the forest and cave to shiver as if they were about to break apart, had finally dissipated. Merlin’s mind was clearer than it had been in a long time--clear enough to help Freya when she returned. But now he had a headstrong king to contend with.

Merlin stopped abruptly in front of Arthur and opened his mouth to speak. Then, thinking better of it, he snapped it shut and returned to his pacing. He wasn’t having this argument again. They had been round and round with no resolution in sight. Where was his friend’s support?

This had started with Merlin’s promise to help Freya. Arthur didn’t trust her. Merlin tried to convince Arthur that Freya would never betray them. She would do everything she could to save them.

Arthur wasn’t having any of it. “Merlin.”

“Arthur, I don’t want to hear it.”

Arthur implored, “You must.”

“No…” Then it hit him. Why hadn’t he seen this before? He whirled around to confront Arthur, “Wait a minute. I know what this is about. You don’t want me to be free. If I am free, I will no longer live here and you...and you….” he stuttered, “You will cease to exist.”

A look of surprise crossed Arthur’s face, followed by one of frustration. He then addressed Merlin as if speaking to a child. “No, Merlin. You know that isn’t the case.”

Merlin petulantly covered his ears. “I will not hear this.”

Arthur snapped, “You absolutely will listen to me. I am your king.”

But Merlin really had stopped listening. The realization of what he had just said hit him. Once freed from his prison, this world and Arthur would slip away. Merlin would again be left to sit by Arthur on his stone bed, waiting for his return. He couldn’t bear the thought of that.

Merlin fell to his knees. His eyes brimming with tears as he beat at the ground in frustration. Was he really so selfish that he would wish failure on Freya and the others just so that he could stay in this fantasy with Arthur?

Arthur's voice softened, but he continued to try to persuade him. “You cannot trust Freya. She will hurt you. Think about it. Does any of this make sense to you?”

Merlin pushed away the pain in his heart. Betrayal of the others was not an option. "You don't make sense. Freya would not hurt me and I will not allow you to convince me otherwise.”

“Merlin--”

“Shut up! This doubt is beneath you...beneath me...us….”

In that moment, Arthur was standing by him. He placed his hand on Merlin’s shoulder, squeezing firmly but gently. “Please listen to me. It’s not about that.”

Merlin shoved the hand away, “Shut up! You’re wrong. I am right about this. And I need you to just shut up.”

Arthur stepped back, his only response a soft, resigned, “Merlin.” He returned to his post, eyes fixed on the forest, body rigid.

Bitterness welled up in him. Arthur had set before him that one sliver of doubt that he and the others might not be saved. He needed time away from Arthur. Entering the cool of the cave, he left Arthur alone to guard against whatever he seemed to think he was protecting Merlin from.

Merlin headed for the shadows of the cave, dodging and batting away the memories that crowded and nudged him for attention. Finding a corner empty of thoughts, he sat down against a boulder, hugging his knees. Although he had hoped getting away from Arthur would allow him to think things through, his friend’s words haunted him. He fought to push Arthur’s unfounded warnings out of his head and focus on how he could help Freya and the others. The jumble of emotions tired him. It wasn’t long before his eyelids grew heavy and he fell into a deep sleep.

Outside the cave, Arthur remained a steadfast sentinel.

                                                                                                               ****

After leaving Arthur and his men at the transport, Aredian stormed back to the Biogen Labs. His clenched fists and resolute strides warned off any technician who might have considered approaching him. When he reached his office, he kicked the door shut behind him. His failure to retrieve the sword was a setback. Even more unsettling was the message that had shown up on his com not ten minutes ago. The Chancellor would be in Aredian’s office first thing in the morning for an update on the Biogen project and a tour of the laboratories.

Aredian took his anger out on the closest piece of furniture, which happened to be his chair. Rattling it back and forth, he picked it up and slammed it down again and again. There was no time to deal with Uther. Finding the sword took precedence over placating the Chancellor. It frustrated him even more that to obtain the sword, he must again rely on Merlin and the druid woman. Each time he entered their minds he risked being discovered. If they learned of his deception, he would lose control of Merlin and the ability to command him to activate the bombs. Still, he could think of no other solution to get his hands on Excalibur.

Aredian hurried down the hall to Biogen-210’s tank. Entering her mind took no time, although he took a few minutes to push thoughts of the upcoming meeting with Uther aside and calm his emotions. Once his head was clear, he felt himself automatically floating to Freya’s subconscious. The sword she held so dear wasn’t difficult to find. The glow from it was even stronger now than the day before. He averted his gaze and manifested a body within her mind so that he could touch it. As he approached the sword, he was forced to avert his gaze from the intense light. Only when the sword was in his hand did it dim.

Running his palm along the flat of the steel blade, he read the engraved words Take Me Up. He flipped it over to see Cast Me Down. Aredian felt himself transported once more to the bottom of lake. There the sword slipped from his hand and took its place among the reads that were gently dancing to and fro in the currents. He stared intently at Excalibur for waiting for a sign. However, he received no clues as to how he could summon it. Would he need to drain the lake? That could take weeks.

All of a sudden he was speeding upwards. When he reached the surface of the lake, Aredian could see the shore and the place where he had stood earlier that day. Looking around, he saw a mist behind him. He could make out the shape of a small island. Had he been at the wrong lake? No, this was it. He could see the same formation of trees Arthur's men had stood near. He looked back to the middle of the lake and willed himself to move towards the island, but suddenly he found himself back in Freya’s mind. He questioned the meaning of this vision. Had he been given a sign to help him obtain the sword? If so, what was it? He needed to know before he could continue his search.

Aredian was distracted by the cord connecting Freya to Merlin. Did he dare risk contacting Merlin through her again? He could only keep up the masquerade for so long before Merlin would guess his identity. Even under the influence of the drugs, Merlin was bound to become suspicious at some point.

Aredian watched the cord undulating in the darkness, as if patiently waiting for him to decide. He resolved to take the risk. Once again, he pulled Freya’s essence around him and touched the cord.

The dark forest of sacred trees of elder, oak, birch, and alder lay out before Aredian in a protective grove, revealing only a hint of the clearing they sheltered. Aredian pushed  forward once more, eager to see what Merlin was hiding. There were secrets hidden within the fortress of gnarled trunks and overgrown branches and Aredian was determined to find a way to extract them.

Beside the bright yellow of a furze shrub was a glow not unlike the light that Excalibur exuded. Then his eyes caught a slight movement. _Merlin?_ Aredian called out in Freya’s voice.

The flash coming from the clearing hinted at a blade of silver coming to attention.

Aredian released a soft chuckle. _Merlin, it is me…Freya. No need to be afraid._

There was a hesitation. Then he heard a voice that was Merlin’s, yet it echoed strangely, taking on a different quality...a duality of sorts that Aredian was at a loss to explain.

_Not Merlin. And not afraid._

Aredian paused, uncertain how to address this new persona. Perhaps it was insanity finally talking over, or an effect of the new drug? No. If anything, the Quiesamide would make him more acquiescent. This must be confusion.

Aredian backed off, speaking with a false sincerity. _I promise I shall not enter. I just need to speak with Merlin._

_Merlin is not present to hear your lies. You will leave._

This was getting Aredian nowhere. What the hell did he mean that Merlin was not there?  Who are you?

Aredian waited. There was a movement. He tried to reach out with his mind to see what Merlin had created to safeguard himself. This was a mistake. Some form of energy was speeding towards him. Before he could react, a flash of light and a slicing motion shot through his head in a burning pain.

_You will leave **now!** the voice that was Merlin-yet-not-Merlin commanded. _

The connection to Merlin abruptly broke and Aredian was back in the Biogen laboratory, on his knees, grasping his head. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and his fingers curled into his hair and then pulling as he panted through the searing pain.

Shit, what the hell was that?

What was he up against? Even though Merlin had no power outside the tank, clearly he had some within.

Stumbling out of the room and down the hall towards his office, Aredian grappled with a new complication. If he couldn’t get past Merlin’s barriers to convince him to connect with the other Biogen in a drug-induced state, how was he to…Aredian froze.

At the end of the hall was Gaius. Pale and hunched over, he slowly limped towards the minister with a look of fear on his face.

“Gaius, what the hell--?”

“I’m sorry.”

The heat of anger washed over him. He didn’t know what the old man was about to impart, but for Gaius to apologize to him, it must be bad.

Aredian’s voice was cold steel. “What have you done?”

The old man cowered. “I’m sorry I did not return sooner.”

Aredian growled, “Are you telling me that you have not been here since this morning?”

Gaius’s eyes were pleading. “Yes, but...”

He charged at Gaius until he was just inches away and glaring down at the old man, fists clenched at his side. “But what? Are you telling me that you left the Biogen alone all day? That you haven’t been checking their vitals or administering the drugs?”

Aredian looked back at Merlin’s room and his frown deepened. “Wait, does that mean that Biogen-32 did not get his afternoon dose of Quiesamide?

Gaius paled further. “No, sir. He did not.”

Aredian struck out, hitting Gaius in the chest. He turned and rushed towards Merlin’s room. Behind him there was a grunt and thump as Gaius fell to the floor from the force of the blow.

Not caring if the man was dead and almost wishing he were, Aredian called out, “Uther will hear of this. And, don’t even think of going anywhere. I will have work for you when I return.”

Once back in the room, Aredian grabbed the bottle of Quiesamide and snapped off the cap with such force that it flew across the room. The drugs were quickly administered. He rubbed his temple. He desparately wanted to continue questioning Merlin, but the pain still reverberated in his head. There would be no returning to the minds of the Biogen until he felt better.

The next morning, Aredian stood beside the Chancellor in the Biogen rooms. Although Uther had requested a tour, he seemed unsure of where to look and tentatively move about the tanks. As far as Aredian knew, Uther had not been to the lower levels of the government facility since before the capture of the Biogen, almost a decade ago. Uther seemed anxious, like he would rather be anywhere other than here. Was he afraid of the Biogen or just disgusted by them?

After a few brief, uncomfortable glances at the tanks, Uther cleared his throat. “I’ve seen enough. What is the status of Biogen-32?”

Aredian lowered the lights in the tanks to ease Uther's discomfort. “We are ready for the final phase. It will do what we need.”

A rare smile crossed the Chancellor’s lips. “Take me to it.”

The light came up as the two men entered Merlin’s room.

Unlike the other Biogen who Uther seemed eager to get away from, he now studied Merlin with fascination, “His power...are you sure we will be safe from it?”  

Aredian nodded. “Yes, the drug worked even better than I imagined. He trusts me and is accepting my orders through the woman.”

Reassured, Uther’s swagger returned as he circled the tank, his hand running over the smooth, cold surface of the glass. He stopped when he was standing in front of Merlin and said, “Soon. Soon you and your kind will be completely purged from this earth. We will be rid of you, Sorcerer.”

Without taking his eyes off Merlin, Uther instructed Aredian, “Let the scientists know they can implant the bombs. They should be ready to leave with the Biogen in three days to deliver them to the cities. I want them installed by the end of the week so we can end this once and for all.”

Sir, “They have already begun the implanting procedure. The Biogen will be set for transport in plenty of time.”

“Good. Now, have you figured out how to give Biogen-32 access to the others once they are out of Albion?”

“Yes, I am having him and 210 taken to the roof of the Biogen labs. There will be no barrier to his magic and no chance of him being seen.”

Uther looked at Aredian and raised his eyebrows.

He mirrored Aredian’s own concern. Taking the sorcerer out of the confines of the iron-filled walls was risky. Aredian still wasn’t one hundred percent sure that he could control Merlin’s power...not that he would share that concern with Uther.

Instead, Aredian lied, “We have this in control. The Biogen is under the the effects of the drugs and his mind is easily manipulated. He will not resist. He believes that he is helping the other Biogen regain their powers. His focus will be entirely on that.”

Uther relaxed, nodding. “Excellent.”

“Except…”

Uther frowned. “Except what, Minister?”

This was the moment Aredian had been waiting for. Even if he were able to retrieve Excalibur today, he needed a plausible reason for it to stay in his hands. Ironically, it had been Merlin who had given him the solution. Now, he just needed to convince Uther of its necessity.

“Except that once the bombs have detonated, I believe that Biogen-32 will be able to tell that the other Biogen have died. He could become dangerous and turn his power on us.”

Uther took a threatening step towards Aredian. “You just told me it is safe! Now you’re telling me that it is not?”  

Aredian swallowed back nervous bile. “There is a way to ensure that doesn’t happen.”

“I’m waiting.”

“The artifact that I have been searching for has the power to destroy him. Once the other Biogen have died in the explosions, I can use it to kill him before he can harm us.”

Uther's face turned bright red as he angrily stalked toward Aredian, backing him up against the Biogen tank. "You swore to me that he would be kept alive so that we could locate and destroy all the magical relics. Have you been lying to me all this time?"

“No, Chancellor, I swear I have not! Besides the this one, there are no more artifacts in Albion.”

"And how do you know that?" Uther demanded.

“Last night, when I communicated with Biogen-32, he told me.”

Aredian held his breath, waiting for Uther’s response. He had no doubt that there were other magical artifacts still hidden, but Excalibur was the only one he needed, rendering the search for other artifacts unnecessary. What he didn’t need was Merlin getting in his way. If he could convince Uther to trust him on this, then the wizard would be dead soon after the others perished. More importantly, with Excalibur in his possession, Aredian would rise to power.

Uther’s scanned the minister's face, searching for any sign of deception. Aredian resisted the temptation to look away.

Uther finally asked, “Are you absolutely sure, Aredian?”

“I am. Once we dispose of Biogen-32, all magical knowledge and those who could command it will be gone from Albion. We will, of course, still have more work to do throughout the rest of the world.”

“I’m not concerned about the rest of the world. I have put in place a plan that will lead everyone to believe that the Biogen energy sources were sabotaged by the druid resistance. Not only will it be easy to convince the leaders that the only place for anyone with magic is in Albion’s prison, they will look to us to protect them from this enemy.”

It was a brilliant plan. Especially Aredian’s suggestion to have Albion's own soldiers appear at the sites, disguised as resistance members. Nobody would ever guess that the bombs were activated from Camelot and there would be no confusion as to where the treachery was initiated. As Uther indicated, it was unfortunate, yet unavoidable, that those soldiers’ lives must be sacrificed to the cause, but vital that only he and the minister knew the truth.

Aredian felt giddy with excitement. Uther had played right into his hands.

Uther’s expression turned to worry. “This artifact... will we be able to destroy it once Biogen-32 is dead?”

“Yes,” Aredian lied again, “it can be destroyed with fire and a combination of several chemicals that are available in our laboratories.”

“And what is this artifact?”

“It is a sword.”

“A sword? Other than having the ability to kill the Biogen, does it have any other magical attributes?”

“No, Sir, that is its only true purpose.”

Uther nodded. “Then let us proceed. I will let the governments know that the power sources are on the way. Now, go and retrieve that sword.”

As they walked out into the hall, Aredian casually said to Uther, “Sir, I think it would be better if I retrieved the sword by myself.”

Eyebrows raised, Uther asked, “And why is that?”

“I don’t want the men in the way. It will take all my concentration to retrieve it.”

“Aredian, the men will be there to ensure that nothing happens to you or the artifact. You are going to have to accept that.”

“But, Chancellor I…”

“That is my final word on the matter.”

With the tour at an end, Aredian turned to go to his office when Uther--who clearly had more to discuss--spoke again. “Oh, and Aredian...the sword is to be destroyed immediately after the Biogen is killed. Agravaine will be with you on the roof to see that through.”

“The Marshall?” he stuttered. “Sir, he does not have clearance to be near the Biogen. You said yourself that you wanted as few people as possible to know. Won’t this endanger your--”

Uther cut him off with a roar of impatience, “Enough!”

Aredian froze.

“You will not question me! Once the bombs detonate, we will need Agravaine and his teams to prepare for attack on the slim chance that there is any possible retaliation. Don’t worry, Agravaine will play an important role in the final phase. Now, go and meet the men. I believe they are waiting for you outside.”

Aredian hastened down to the transport area, his mind reeling with the news that Uther had involved the Marshall in the scheme. Back in the Biogen Labs, Aredian had been caught off guard. When had Uther decided to involve Agravaine? And what else did the Marshall know? Did he know the true purpose of their project? Had he been tasked with destroying more than just the sword? But no, Aredian mused, Uther still needed Aredian if they were to rid the entire world of magic. He set aside his suspicions by convincing himself that Uther still needed him to eradicate magic from the rest of the world. Right now he must focus on the day ahead.

If Aredian had to suffer the irritation of Arthur and his cocky guards, then at least he'd have the satisfaction of pissing them off. When he'd arrived at the laboratory that morning, he hadn't bothered notifying Peterson of the delayed departure time. Secretly, he'd hoped that they'd tire of waiting and disperse, but while his ploy had earned him an aggravated glare from Peterson, he and the guards had waited for him.

When the men saw him coming, they quickly got up from where they were sitting on the ground, where they were playing some sort of game. He hoped they were gambling. He would love any excuse to have them imprisoned. However, by the time he reached them, they were standing at attention with nothing incriminating in sight. On the other hand, Peterson’s anger wasn’t hidden.

Aredian smirked at the furious Captain and taunted, “Playing on the ground like a bunch of little boys? Your men should know better and you should have more control over them. At least you remembered to load the boat.”

Arthur shot looks of hate at Aredian, but he remained silent and followed the Minister on to the transport.

Despite the lack of information provided by Freya's memories, Aredian now had a better sense of the sword's resting place. It was near the center of the lake and the boat that had been loaded on to the transport would get him close. Perhaps the incantation would work at a closer proximity. If it didn't, he had no qualms about taking a little swim. He had found and memorized a spell that would allow him to stay underwater for a long period of time--long enough to retrieve the sword.

As for Peterson and his men…if they caused any problems, he would dispatch them without a second thought. Hopefully, it would not come to that. He didn’t need any other complications right now.

The ride to the lake was quiet, for which Aredian was grateful because he needed to focus on the incantation he would use to raise Excalibur. When they arrived, the men unloaded the small open boat and set it in the water. The sun was beating down and Aredian could feel beads of perspiration on his face. There was no wind and the lake was still. Standing at its edge, he addressed Arthur, “Peterson, I will need to focus, you and your men can watch from the shore while I do this.”

“No, Sir,” Peterson said as he stood near the boat, ready to board.

“Peterson, I am not going to argue with you. You will do what I say.”

With a steady but defiant voice, the Captain replied, “Sir, I was told to stay with you for your protection. If you like, we can contact the Chancellor to confirm his orders.”

Aredian would have killed Arthur on the spot if he could have gotten away with it. “Fine!” he snapped, “Get into the boat and keep quiet.”

Arthur calmly climbed aboard sat at the back of the boat. Aredian took his place at the bow and looked forward.  

When it looked like Aredian was settled in, Arthur tapped the craft's computer screen and said, "Where to, Sir?"

Without looking back, Aredian pointed in the direction they were to go.

Aredian tried to ignore the presence of the Captain and calm his mind as the boat silently glided along the glassy surface of the water. Once they were out far enough out, Aredian looked back at the shore, trying to gauge the approximate position he had been when in Freya’s mind. As soon as he felt he had reached that spot, he had Arthur turn the boat’s computer off.

As they floated under the hot sun, Aredian looked down into the lake’s depths. It was now or never. He took a deep breath, raised his hands, palms down over the lake and began the incantation. He said it three times, then waited.  

Nothing happened.

He repeated the incantation. Leaning over the bow, he searched the water. There was a heavy silence. He couldn't hear the slight rocking of the boat, or the wind in the trees that had just come up...not even his own heartbeat. Then, from beside them came a churning, bubbling sound and then something was breaking the surface of the water.

Aredian turned his head just in time to see a sword erupt from the water, hurtling slowly end over end towards the boat. He reached out to catch it...but its arc went outside of his outstretched arm.

Dumbstruck, Aredian turned his head to stare at the Captain, who looked equally stunned. Held firmly in Arthur’s hand, with lake water dripping from its tang and the sun reflecting off of the length of its perfect blade, was Excalibur.


	11. Chapter 11

Arthur waited in Uther’s office, ready to give his report, while the Chancellor finished speaking with the newest of a long line of milquetoast assistants. Arthur couldn’t recall how many young men he had seen come and go since he joined the Guard, but it didn’t go unnoticed that just as one gained confidence in his position, another quickly took his place. After the third one, Arthur had stopped asking their names. Uther seemed to prefer his underlings fearful and submissive. And this particularly jittery, wide-eyed young man—not much more than a teenager—looked as though he was going to prostrate himself at each command, while attempting to keep control of his bladder. By the time Uther finished his long list of orders, the kid was practically cowering in the corner. This one might be around for awhile. Finally, a dismissive wave from Uther sent the boy scuttling out the door, wiping beads of sweat from his face. 

The door closed and without a glance at Arthur, Uther returned to his desk and started going over work on his computer.  “Did all go well, Captain?”

“Yes, sir.”

His fingers tapped on the keyboard, “No problems?”

Arthur’s mouth went dry and he shifted uncomfortably, “No, Sir. “

“And what about the artifact?”

“It’s with Aredian.” Feelings of regret caused Arthur to glance away. When he looked back, he was met with Uther’s scrutinizing gaze.

There was a subtle shift in Uther’s stance, “Captain, did anything unusual happen with its power?”

Arthur paused before responding. “No, Sir.”   _Unless you consider the appearance of the most powerful sword in history unusual._

Uther walked around to the front of the desk, eyes still on Arthur, “Captain you are not giving me much information. Are you telling me everything?”

Arthur’s stomach filled with anger and regret, but his face remained emotionless. “Sir, no. Minister Aredian was able to retrieve the artifact…a sword. I was with him the entire time. Nothing unusual happened.” Arthur was hoping that Aredian’s own desire for the sword would keep the minister from saying anything about their confrontation and how the sword had chosen Arthur. Judging from Uther’s reaction, Aredian had kept quiet.

Uther’s focus returned to the screen. “Thank you, Captain. You and your men did a good job. I believe that was the last of the artifacts. You can return to your other duties now.”

He had expected more questions, but Uther seemed oddly distracted. There was also none of the usual inquiries into Arthur’s training sessions. Arthur walked out into the reception area. The ashen-faced assistant looked up startled, but sighed in relief when he saw that it was Arthur. Arthur nodded and was about to press the elevator button when he turned back. “What’s your name?”

“Daniel, sir.” He looked like he was about to throw up all over his desk.

“You’ll do fine, Daniel.”

Daniel took a gulp and smiled, “Thank you, sir.”

Arthur thought about returning to work, but it was late afternoon and he just didn’t have the heart to return to his office. Scheduling could wait until morning. The streets were quiet as most of Camelot’s residents wouldn’t be heading home for another hour or so. His footsteps echoed on the pristine white road. The closer he got to home, the more he dreaded returning to his empty flat. Without even thinking, he turned down a small street that wasn’t his own and walked faster towards the most comforting place he could think of.

There was no response when he knocked on Gwen’s door. He stood there in the quiet, unwilling to leave. Raising his arm to knock again, he stopped, seeing the tremor in his hand that quickly moved through him as his whole body began to shiver. What had he done? What kind of man had he become in this new world? He had handed his sword over to the enemy, while his men looked on. He had failed them, he had failed himself…he had failed Merlin. The look of disappointment he had seen so often on on his father’s face flashed in his mind. _You are not good enough to lead_. Arthur’s breathing quickened as he leaned forward, his forehead resting on the door. For the first time in three years he felt helpless and struggled to hold it together as the events of the day overwhelmed him. 

Aredian was repeating the same sequence of mysterious words that conjured up hooded figures in darkened groves--an ancient language that Arthur had never learned. At first, nothing had happened. But then steam began rising up in the middle of the lake as if the water was evaporating. Then it transformed into a swirling mist that lifted and grew in a widening circle until it was a cloud the size of an immense bank. Nervously, Arthur glanced at Aredian who seemed to have no awareness of the growing land mass behind him. Nor did he seem to notice when the vapor dissipated to reveal Avalon. Arthur looked back at the shore to see his men were still alert, but they too showed no signs of seeing the island.

Arthur had breathed a sigh of relief and then braced himself for whatever Aredian’s magic was about to conjure. Aredian finished his incantation and the world went silent in expectation. He had followed Aredian’s line of vision down into the lake. As Arthur leaned over the side of the boat to get a better look into the murky darkness his had hand brushed the surface and a tingling surged through his fingers. Aredian had gasped and Arthur turned just in time to see a herald of bubbles give birth to the rise of the blade, cross-guard, and grip of a sword. The boat pitched slightly as Arthur stood abruptly to get a better look. He then had watched in shock as the sword had raised itself out of the water and sailed through the air--past Aredian’s outstretched hand toward Arthur’s. 

Instinctively, Arthur had grasped the sword firmly. The feel of it was so familiar, so right. As he looked at the inscription on the blade “Take me up” and then “Cast me way” on the other side, past and present came together and Arthur’s destiny snapped into place. This was Excalibur and with it he must protect his kingdom. 

For a moment, neither man had moved. They were transfixed by the sword’s beauty. It was nothing resembling a weapon that had been immersed in water for centuries. It was unmarked—pristine as if newly forged. And the power! Arthur was overwhelmed by the fierce vibration…as if it were awakening in his hand. At the other end of the boat, Aredian’s eyes’ were wide in astonishment. 

A flash of light had reflected off the blade and for an instant Aredian was blinded. It seemed to jolt him back to awareness. Nonplussed, his look soon morphed into one of covetous single-mindedness as his eyes raked over the sword. Aredian had held his hand out. “Give me the sword.”

Arthur took the half step back that the bow of the boat would allow.

 Aredian took a step forward. His voice was low and menacing. “Peterson, I said give me the sword.”

Arthur’s look had been mutinous as his hand tightened on the grip.

“Peterson!…Do you honestly think that Uther would allow you and your men to live if you stole this from him?”

The silence all around them had lifted revealing calls from the shore. Arthur didn’t dare look around, but the concerned voices of his men signaled that they were about to take action. 

Arthur’s resolve wavered. If he had openly defied Aredian or showed any intention of keeping the sword, it could mean disbandment of his team, possibly prison for all of them with no chance of ever finding Merlin. If he handed it over now, he could chalk up his hesitation to the sword’s hypnotic power and maybe Aredian would say nothing to Uther. A dread ran through him at the thought of passing this much power to Aredian and then maybe on to Uther. Arthur struggled to come up with a plan, but nothing except killing the minister came to mind. He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t kill someone in cold blood, without provocation. And he also couldn’t kill one of the few who might know where Merlin was. He had no plan and no way of knowing if the sword could keep he and his men safe. At that moment, they had to be his first consideration.

Aredian red-faced, seethed, “Captain, you will hand that over now.” Was that fear in his eyes? He must have known how much power Arthur wielded at that moment.

Arthur looked down at Excalibur, praying for a another option. The only response was the light sparkling off the blade and the surge of power pulsing into Arthur’s hand and up through his arms. Arthur reluctantly, and with with great effort, surrendered the sword. Aredian’s hand touched the grip and in that moment the sword jerked back and a look of confusion passed over his face. Fighting the resistance, he gripped it and with great force pulled it from Arthur’s hands. Arthur felt the power linger and then drain out of his fingers leaving an emptiness as if his very soul had left him.  

Aredian had pulled the sword to his chest, savoring the power that came with it. Then in a quick move, he had turned the blade on Arthur. Arthur had not expected that and had to catch himself as he almost lost balance again. He then prepared to die by his own sword. Frantic calls and splashes came from the shore. 

“Call your men off, Peterson and return us to shore.”

Arthur raised his hand in a wave that stopped the men from coming any further, but their faces remained tense and worried. He set the boat’s computer and steered it back to land. Behind Aredian, the fog once again rose up and reclaimed its island.  

Aredian, unaware of the mystical transformation, was now glaring at Arthur. “The Chancellor will hear of this, Peterson.”

But Arthur was distracted by the soft sounds of a woman crying as they neared the banks of the lake. Arthur scanned the banks of the lake for its source but the crying stopped as the last swirls of mist disappeared into the lake. 

Once back on land, Aredian had taken one last look at the lake and said, “We are done here.” He stepped into the transport as Arthur’s men warily followed.

Lance had been pale but relieved as he looked questioningly at Arthur who mouthed “Later.”

During the ride back, Arthur’s men had alternated between staring in fascination at Excalibur’s pure beauty and glancing in worry at their Captain whose gaze was fixed on the minister and his new acquisition.  There wasn’t a man on that transport who didn’t feel the magic emanating from the sword. Aredian held Excalibur close. It would be impossible to get it out of his possession now. After just a few moments in his own hands, Arthur felt stripped of a part of himself and he yearned for its return. This was his sword, the last sword he had wielded before his death, the sword that Merlin had given him. He now understood what he had been reaching for when he first awoke on Avalon…what had been missing at his side when he set out for the great city. And the pull to search for the old weaponry in the museum had ultimately been an unconscious quest to find his own sword. As he watched Aredian caress the sword, Arthur knew he had made a dire mistake. 

Now standing in front of Gwen’s door, he wondered if the sword was lost to him forever. Later he would pull Lance and Leon aside and question them about what they had witnessed. He doubted that any of the others had seen the island, but he wanted to know for sure. He and Merlin might be the only ones who could see Avalon. _Merlin._ Arthur’s heart ached. He had lost his sword and he was no closer to finding his friend. 

“Arthur?” 

A gentle hand touched his arm and he looked into Gwen’s warm brown eyes.

“Gwen, I…”

“Arthur what is it? She moved quickly to unlock the door. “Come in.”

Arthur just stared at her trying to get the words out.

Gwen gently led him into her home and to the soft red chair that Arthur often gravitated to when he visited. But instead he moved towards the sofa and pulled her down beside him. 

Gwen held Arthur’s hand for a moment and then jumped up, “Let me get you something to drink.” 

But Arthur grabbed her wrist.

“Arthur what is it?” 

He wanted to tell her everything was okay and that he just dropped by to say hello. He wanted to just sit with her while she made dinner and listen to her laugh and tell stories about the events of her week as he teased her about one thing or another. He wanted Elyan to drop by as he often did and the three of them just chat aimlessly about silly things. But instead he held on to her wrist as he silently looked up at her. And in those moments, he felt every bit of regret well up inside of him. Wave after wave of loss and of the futility of his three-year search for Merlin overwhelmed him. And he cried. Arthur cried for it all. He cried for his sword, and the Camelot that was gone, and he cried for Merlin. He cried for everything he had lost and what he might never get back. And as tears streamed down his face and he sobbed until there was nothing left inside, Gwen held him.

 

****

Arthur returned to his daily routine avoiding any thoughts of what he may have given up on the lake. That evening at Gwen’s flat, they had talked for hours. He had not shared any of his secrets but had spoken at length of Merlin and their friendship. He needed that for some kind of closure and Gwen seemed to understand. Now it was time to move on and find his place in this world without his friend. 

Except he couldn’t. He tried. He really did try. But this morning he had seen Gaius on the street. Against his better judgement, Arthur had approached the old man who looked more haggard than when he last saw him and had begged him for more answers. But Gaius ignored Arthur and just hurried on.

Arthur dropped his head into his hands, his computer blinked at him waiting for him to finish his weekly report. A knock at the door startled him. 

“Come in.”

The door opened and Lance stepped inside. He took one look at Arthur and frowned.

“Captain, what’s happened?”

Arthur worried his bottom lip. He ran his hand through his hair making him look even more out of sorts. 

Lance took a step towards Arthur’s desk. He hadn’t changed his clothes since this morning’s training and they were still dusty from a fall he took at Percy’s hands. His voice took on a familiar tone, “Arthur, what is it?  You know you can tell me anything.”

Tensing, Arthur pressed his palms into the desk as if he was about to push himself up but then relaxed and sighed. “Yes, I believe I can. Close the door and sit down.”

Three hours and 24 minutes later Lance still sat across from Arthur. His face was unreadable, but throughout the afternoon, it had gone from surprise, to concern, to alarm, and several times he had laughed out loud. At one point, Arthur was sure that he had seen tears in Lance’s eyes, but Lance had quickly stood and paced as Arthur continued. 

Arthur hadn’t held back. He had told Lance everything going all the way back to his Father’s early days in Camelot. And now he waited...waited to see if Lance would go running out in fear, or to alert Agravaine that his captain was insane. His life was in Lance’s hands. 

Several long moments went by as Arthur watched, holding his breath for Lance’s response. He had made Lance promise not to interrupt but that he could ask anything when he was through. Lance finally spoke… “So, me and Elyan’s sister, huh?”

A wry smile passed Arthur’s lips.  “Yeah, I’ll introduce you. You’ll like her.”

Lance nodded with a look of someone who had a lot to say but didn’t quite know how to say it. “Okay, okay.” He glanced around the room, his eyes settling on nothing in particular. Then with more determination. “Okay.”

Trying to remain calm, Arthur watched him, but gripped the desk to keep his hands from shaking. “Lance, please just say it.”

Lance looked directly into his Captain’s eyes and cleared his throat. “Okay, this is a lot to take in. 

Arthur nodded, “I know and—“

“No you really don’t know what is going on in my head so just listen.”

Arthur sat back and waited.

“I want to believe you because I trust you with my life, but…”  He shook his head.

“But what?” Arthur said, sounding more impatient then he meant to.  “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Lance stood up and started to pace the room. Then came to an abrupt stop, “Who else have you told?”

“Nobody. You’re the first person.” 

Lance began pacing again, his mind seeming to be going from one thought to the next. “Good, good. You shouldn’t tell anyone.” Then he wheeled around, “My God, you have carried this burden alone for the last three years?”

Arthur’s voice was quiet. “I didn’t know who I could trust.”

Lance shook his head. Arthur tensed under Lance’s sympathetic gaze. Then Lance nodded again. “Arthur, look—

Arthur jumped in. “Look, do what you have to. I needed to tell someone and I know I took a chance doing so. I’ll understand if you need to report me.”

“Report you? Is that the kind of person you think I am?”

“No but—“

“Arthur, you are my Captain, and I hope my friend. You just need to give me a minute to…to figure things out.”

Arthur sat back. “Okay, take all the time you need. I’m sorry. I know this sounds crazy.”

“You are damned right it sounds crazy. No, _is_ crazy. This whole thing _is_ crazy.” Lance dropped back into the chair. “But you are not going to carry this burden alone anymore. He placed his hands on the desk and leaned forward. "Just tell me.”

Arthur sighed, “What, Lance. Tell you what?”

“What can I do to help you?”

Arthur relaxed as a great weight was lifted. Exhausted from years of carrying this burden he let out a shaky sigh and smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

Lance certainly had no love for the minister and was ready for battle. His eyes sparkled with excitement at the idea of a mission to take down Aredian and find this guy Merlin. Arthur was proud to have him as a friend. But right now, Arthur needed to think. With Lance’s help it opened up doors. There were now possibilities. “Lance, give me some time. I didn’t expect you to believe me, never mind offer your help. I need a few days. Maybe with your help we can get my sword out of Aredian’s hands and find Merlin. Maybe with help….”  Arthur stopped. The realization that he finally had someone he could count on hit him.

Lance smiled. “Arthur I promise you that help. Just call on me when you are ready.”

Lance stood to leave and as he got to the door, Arthur stopped him. “Lance.”

Lance looked back expectantly.

“I know what you just said. But this is all fresh to you. Take some time and think about it. I don’t want you to agree to anything that goes against your values…your code of honor.”

Lance gave him a curious look and smiled, “You mean a knight’s honor?”

“I’m serious. I told you knowing the possible consequences to myself. I wouldn’t ever blame you for reporting me, if you feel that is what should be done.”

Lance opened his mouth to respond, but just nodded and left. 

 

****

Merlin ran through the cave, batting away memories as he searched. Occasionally he cried out and his fist hit the stoney wall, “Damn it.”

Arthur followed him, stopping when he did and continuing on as Merlin pushed aside one memory after another, “It has to be here.”

“What Merlin? What has to be here? Just stop. Stand still and tell me.”

Merlin whirled around. “The knowledge of how to get back their memories…the spell to retrieve them…why can’t I find it? Why can’t I remember it? I couldn’t have possibly sent it away. I need it to give them back their memories.”

Arthur rubbed his face. “If you can’t remember it, it can’t be here.”

“No.”

“Yes, Merlin. If you can’t remember it, it can’t be in the cave.”

Merlin dropped down on his knees, staring at the wall. “I don’t understand. Why would I have given that away?” How do I help them remember? It doesn’t make sense. Help me”

“I can’t.”

“Arthur, help me remember. They will all be free in a few days. Without their memories, how can they survive?”

“Maybe Freya can help you find this knowledge.”

“No, I never told her. I never told any of them where I was hiding their memories. They don’t know about the dragon because if they had, Aredian might have discovered it. He might have hurt the dragon and stole the memories back.”

“Merlin, that doesn’t make sense. How would he get to the memories if they are in the sky?”

“What?”

“How would he get the memories if they are in the sky, Merlin? Does he have that kind of power?” 

Merlin began to panic. “I don’t know? I don’t remember?  Does he…DOES HE?” 

Arthur shook his head. “Merlin you would have saved the most important memories. Keep looking. What can you see in the cave that could help you?”

“All their memories are gone.”  

Arthur kneeled down beside Merlin and put his hand on his shoulder, “Listen to me. You would not have given the memories to the dragon if you could not retrieve them.”

“What if I did? What if I panicked and just wanted to get the memories away from Aredian. What if I didn’t think it through? Why can’t I remember?" He pulled away from Arthur and began grabbing at the clouds which twisted in his hands as he looked deep within them. Not seeing what he was looking for he began shaking them to give up secrets. But each cloud was a memory that was clear as day to Merlin. There was nothing hiding within. 

Merlin ran back outside with Arthur on his heels. He reached the edge of the forest and called out to Freya. He was exhausted and still feeling woozy from the new drug. Everything was so different now. His world didn’t seem to be stable. It often fluctuated and the colors blended together. Even when he slept he felt as if the bottom was going to fall out of his world. 

Merlin’s mind was full of holes. He sometimes lost his train of thought. He would always look to Arthur at those times. Arthur’s presence grounded him. But somehow now he felt less safe and it was as if Arthur was not always with him…that he was different. Arthur continued to stay by Merlin’s side, but he would sometimes nod off into sleep. That wasn’t right. Why did Arthur need sleep? Sometimes when Merlin would ask the king a question he would look off in the distance, seemingly unaware that Merlin was with him. 

“You’re leaving me, aren’t you.”  He didn’t remember that he had already asked Arthur this same question ten times that day. But he did know that it would usually wake up the king or bring him back from wherever his mind was. 

“No Merlin, I won’t ever leave you.” And then he looked off into the distance again.

Merlin’s world was falling apart. He couldn’t get back the memories and his magic couldn’t hold this place together anymore. He prayed Freya would hurry so he could save them. But what about the memories?  

After spending two days looking for the spell, Merlin came running out of the cave, “Arthur, I know what to do! I figured it out! If I can’t remember the spell, I’ll just create a new one! Arthur! 

Arthur?”

Arthur was gone. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
